Stroke of Midnight
by SignedSealedWritten
Summary: They can't stand to lose another one, not so soon. While driving home from a case, things go terribly wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I am quite aware that _The Art of Butterflies_ isn't complete, but this damn plot wouldn't leave me alone. It's changed, considerably, from what it was when it started, but that doesn't matter much. It's more of a team fic than anything else, but there might be a few surprise pairings as we go along. If you've got suggestions for those pairings, suggest away – I'm up for _almost_ anything.

**Stroke Of Midnights**

The twenty third of December had been longer of a day than any of the Behavioral Analysis Unit could have anticipated. Their current case in Washington, D.C. had lasted over a week and three days, coming to a close with the death of their UnSub, Jacob Hoag. None of them had been sorry to see him go – even knowing it would come with endless paperwork. Not only had the man been killing _children_, but he'd almost taken one of their own. By the time the case details had been wrapped up and thanks had been given, it was nearly eleven at night.

"With any luck, we'll be home by Christmas Eve this year." David Rossi said, driving one of the dark SUVs that were bringing them back to Quantico, Virginia. His tone was nearing sarcasm. A few cars behind them, Hotch was driving the other vehicle.

"It's almost Christmas Eve already." Spencer Reid said, sitting in the backseat of the vehicle. The young man was tired, but he wasn't going to show it – he wasn't going to be the younger, weaker agent. "I don't think we'll have to worry about having the day off. It's nearly improbable for us to ship out on another case in the next twenty four hours."

"He was being sarcastic, Reid." Prentiss supplied, riding shotgun. Though she wasn't usually one to be exhausted, this case had them all drained. The side of her head was pressed against the cold window, and her shoulder still stung from where the bullet had grazed it. She'd been the one to shoot Jacob Hoag, but not before surviving a close call. The team had insisted she get checked out by a doctor, which she'd compromised by having the paramedic on the scene wrap her shoulder. It had pacified Hotch and hadn't taken more than five minutes out of an already hectic day. For a moment, she closed her eyes.

"Oh." Reid said, twisting his hands together. His eyes went to the clock – 11:45. It wasn't late by most standards, but after the day they'd all had, they were exhausted. They'd been on the road for forty five minutes, but had about another hour before they'd be in Virginia. The day before Christmas Eve, the roads were heavy with traffic, and the snow falling wasn't doing the situation any good. On most days, the team would have stayed an extra night, but in lieu of being home for Christmas Eve, they'd elected to sacrifice the extra hours on the road.

"Hey, Rossi," Prentiss began, raising her head from the window to look at the older agent driving the SUV. "Have you spoken to Hotch? I'm worried – it's their first Christmas without her."

"Aaron said Jack expressed interest in seeing the New York City Christmas tree." Rossi supplied. The former Unit Chief had been back on the team for the past two weeks after a month long extended leave of absence.

"Are they going?" Reid asked, and Prentiss looked back to the younger man, leaning forward with interest. They'd all been worried about what the holidays would bring, and though none had said anything, Hotch had undoubtedly picked up on the concern. It was par for the course with being a profiler for the FBI.

Rossi couldn't help but smile. "Christmas day." The profiler said. "He didn't know if we'd be back, but he planned it anyway – a surprise for Jack." During the week that they'd stayed in Washington D.C., the young boy had stayed with his Aunt – but Hotch had taken two nighttime visits to visit him during the case.

"That's good." Prentiss said. He needed that time. On days when they were doing files, Jack would come to the BAU with his father. He'd even started calling them all aunt and uncle – even Strauss, which had come as a surprise to the level-headed woman. "They need that." She closed her eyes again, leaning against the window. While the falling snow was making the roads icy, it was also nice to think about a white Christmas. A momentary smile graced her lips.

In the backseat, Reid was trying not to fall asleep. The day's events floated before his closed eyes, long, harrowing – and, several times, horrifying. It always managed to surprise him that he could still feel shock at every victim.

"The kid deserves a good Christmas." Rossi added, looking towards Prentiss. "This year especially, after all he's gone-"

It was instantaneous.

The car next to them – a van only slightly larger than the BAU's Chevy Tahoe – skidded on the black ice forming. The blue van lost control, spinning, careening, and hitting the Tahoe's passenger side at fifty miles an hour, crunching the door.

There was barely the chance to scream before the Tahoe spun, running into the metal guardrail and stopping. Smoke rose from the SUV's engine.

Two cars down, JJ, Hotch, and Morgan saw it all.

The clock on the dashboard flashed 12:00.

**Author's Note (Two): **

Should I continue? I'm not sure about this one – what do you guys think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Stroke of Midnight**

The first sound that he was aware of was a groan. It took him more than a few minutes to realize that the continued sound was his own. With this realization, the groan ceased. David Rossi struggled to open his eyes, blinking several times. The dark expanse before him was foggy, at first, but the senior agent attempted to focus. Memory came back in painful, muddy flashes. There'd been a crash … his eyes moved to the windshield, which was intact by some miracle. The hood was crushed, the car pressed against the guardrail – the cause of the crushed hood. It seemed as if the hood had hit and then the rest of the car had careened into being parallel to the rail, and out of the way of passing traffic.

Rossi attempted speech several times before his voice worked. "Reid … Prentiss…" He waited several moments before remembering that the car had been hit on _her_ side. Rossi received no answer and remained unmoving – afraid he'd injure himself further. Only his eyes moved to see what wreckage was next to him – her window hadn't been so lucky – it was shattered into thousands of pieces that had fallen inward. Blood ran down the side of her face that he could see, and her head was back against the headrest, but he could see nothing else of her and nothing at all of Reid.

His last thought before darkness closed in again was that Reid had been right. They _weren't_ going to make it back for Christmas Eve.

--

"Hotch-"

The man in question pulled the SUV to a stop a mere cars length behind their teammates' crashed vehicle. The blue van hadn't taken as much damage as the SUV – the van hadn't smashed into the guardrail, and there was movement from inside.

There was no movement from inside the SUV.

All color had drained from Aaron Hotchner's face; he was on autopilot. "JJ, call 911. Tell them there's been an accident." Hotch was already getting out of the car, ignoring the fact that they were on a highway. Even with the slowing of traffic, it wasn't anywhere near safe to be on the side of the road. "Morgan, let's go." There was no protest over chain of command. In this emergency, they reverted back to old standards – working simply as a team.

The younger agent paid no heed to traffic, either – the vehicle crushed up ahead held three people close to him. He hadn't even let the thought of _death_ cross his mind.

Glass crunched under their feet, already dusted with fallen snow.

There was wreckage before them. The door was smashed; they couldn't have opened it if they had tried. The window – the source of the glass – had shattered. Pieces of the glass were strewn throughout the car. Two of the tires had blown, and pieces of rubber had joined the shards of glass on the pavement.

"Emily." Hotch said, his voice urgent. She didn't respond. The woman's dark hair was dusted with glass. There was blood on her face and in her hair, and glass in her face – her eyes were closed, her head against the headrest. "Emily, open your eyes." It was a command. He could see further past her into the drivers side, where Rossi sat, but it was too dark to see the finger details, or Reid, in the backseat. The glass of the backseat window hadn't shattered.

"Hotch?" Morgan asked, his heart beating too quickly. This emergency was different than his years on the bomb squad – he _knew _the people in this car.

Hotch didn't answer, focused on the three agents before him. "Dave – _Dave_." The man in question opened his eyes with a groan.

"Aaron?"

"Yeah – stay still, your car crashed. The medics are on their way." He assured his friend. Cars and trucks honked behind them. There was a heavy wind that threatened to knock them all over.

JJ joined them, her light hair whipping around her cheeks. There were tears in her eyes. "The medics will be right here, Hotch." Her voice was struggling to stay professional. She wiped away tears she was trying not to shed.

"Thank you." He acknowledged his tone warmer than usual. She nodded.

"Hotch?"

He turned at the familiar voice, weaker than it normally was. "Just stay still, Emily. You'll be alright." He reached out, ignoring the glass that was threatening his arm, and took her hand. In the distance, muted by the snow, Hotch could hear the approaching ambulances. The snow began to fall heavier. "What hurts?"

"We crashed." She said, puzzled and disoriented.

"I know." He answered, not wanting to push her, as Morgan strained to see into the back of the car. If he pressed his face against the glass, he could make out the still form of Spencer Reid.

"I can't tell, Hotch." Morgan said, his chest heavy with panic that stole his breath. Relief flooded through him when he saw the younger man shift. The flashing red light lit Morgan's face momentarily.

"Hotch, she needs the ambulance first." JJ spoke, her arms wrapped around her middle. She stood close to the former unit chief, in what she hoped was Prentiss' line of vision.

"Do that." Rossi was conscious again and spoke haltingly. "Go with 'er. I'm fine." The older agent was right – she'd been on the side of the car that had been hit. Both he and Reid had been on the other side, and though they hadn't avoided damage, she was definitely the worst off.

"Don't argue with me, Dave." Hotch warned, knowing that it would be difficult to get the man to stay in the presence of a doctor for more than the shortest amount of time necessary if he was even the slightest bit better off than Reid and Prentiss. Rossi was going to send himself to an early grave. The man was the pinnacle of obstinacy.

"He's right, Hotch. She needs to be seen first." Morgan said, anguish racing through his eyes as the first ambulance arrived, the sirens blaring. Two paramedics stepped out, carrying a stretcher between them. Prentiss' nails lightly dug into the palm of Hotch's hand, but he didn't care. Her dark eyes were on him, but she didn't seem to have the strength to talk – she hadn't said a word since acknowledging that they'd crashed. There was glass in his own hand now from coming in contact with the window, though he hardly noticed. He recognized something in her eyes – something that she rarely, if ever, showed – fear.

He couldn't stand the alarm in her eyes as he backed away, making room for the paramedics. One of them had a wrench and quickly undid the door. A second ambulance had arrived, and two more paramedics worked on getting Reid out of the back of the car.

JJ shuddered and Morgan drew her closer, shielding her from the cold. Hotch stood slightly in front of them, watching the proceedings and feeling utterly useless: something he'd often felt recently.

When an unconscious Prentiss was finally laid on a stretcher – a thermal blanket covering most of her – Hotch could begin to see the state of the damage inflicted. There was glass everywhere, but that wasn't life threatening. Her shoulder looked strange and the angle of her leg was odd. From the way she was slipping in and out of consciousness, he feared she'd hit her head.

They removed Reid next, and JJ stepped forward, following the stretcher. He was far better than Prentiss, but injured all the same. The liaison looked towards Hotch, a question in her eyes. He nodded his approval and she jumped into the back of the ambulance.

Rossi was the final BAU agent to be extracted from the crashed vehicle, and was the only conscious one. He looked towards Hotch, who began to follow as he passed.

"I don't want or need a bodyguard." Rossi said. "Go with her, have Morgan drive the car."

"Dave-"

"Don't argue with me.' Rossi turned Hotch's words against him, and the younger agent scowled. He didn't argue, however. Aaron Hotchner listened to the older agent's words and hopped into the back of the ambulance right before it departed.

**TBC**

**Author's Note: **

**I hope that you enjoyed this chapter – please review? It means a lot to me to know what all of you are thinking about what I'm writing. It helps me to write better. Please and thank you! I'm hoping to do a one chapter a day thing with this one. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Stroke of Midnight**

Aaron Hotchner pushed a hand through his dark hair, sitting in the corner of the ambulance. His heart was twisting, every beat painful. There was a metallic taste on his tongue, and the chill running through him had nothing to do with the cold.

After digging several pieces of glass out of her face, the paramedics placed an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, working fast. Hotch passed a hand over his face, his blood running cold. One of the medics was cleaning the glass from her hair.

"Sir?"

It took Hotch a long moment to realize that the medic was addressing him. "Yes." He acknowledged, his voice monotone. "Special Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"FBI?" The woman, who looked to be in her late twenties, asked him. Hotch nodded. "What can you tell me about her?"

Hotch rattled off any medical facts that he knew about her, which the woman wrote down quickly before handing it to her partner.

"Can I wrap your hand?" She asked, and he held out his hand, barely feeling any pain as she removed several pieces of glass and wrapped it in gauze. When she was done, he moved closer to Prentiss.

She was too pale; the contrast between her pale skin and the blood on her face was sharp. Her dark hair was a mess. "Prentiss?" He touched her hand. "Open your eyes." He couldn't stand to lose another person – not again. Having lost Haley – he couldn't stand another loss so soon.

--

"Spence?" She asked, relieved to see him open his eyes. "Hey, Spence." She attempted to smile but knew it looked pasted on. As she watched, he attempted to speak, struggling to put his words together coherently. His hazel eyes were dazed; she touched the back of his hand.

"What's … happening?" He asked, his voice just as confused as his eyes were. One of the medics, a man in his late thirties, attached an IV to his arm.

"The SUV crashed." She told him, watching silently as he struggled to remember. "You're in an ambulance." JJ reached up and brushed a stray hair out of his eyes. There was a piece of glass attached to his hair; she removed it gently.

"Prentiss…JJ," His eyes struggled. "Hit on her side."

"We know." She told him, squeezing his hand. "She's in an ambulance. Hotch is with her. Relax, Spence, please." She didn't want him to get too worked up – she didn't know what it would do to him with the state he was already in.

"Is she … okay?" He whispered, not sure if he wanted the answer. "She was leaning … against the window."

She bit her lip. "Reid, I …" She trailed off, fighting back tears. He needed someone to be strong right now, and she wasn't going to fail in that for him. "I don't know yet, Reid. She was unconscious when they had her on the stretcher."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and he withdrew her hand from his in alarm, fearing she'd somehow hurt him. The way he'd shut his eyes so tightly, she couldn't imagine that it was her words that had caused him pain. "What's wrong?"

The immediate answer in her mind was _everything – _everything was wrong, but she couldn't allow herself to think that way. She had to remain the calm, collected woman that she always was.

"Are we almost there?"

He would have sounded like a young child, if she hadn't known better. "Almost." She promised, not failing to notice that he hadn't said what had been bothering him at that moment.

"Don't leave?" He asked, and then he did sound like a child, hurt and afraid. She couldn't help it; one hot tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm not leaving. You're stuck with me."

--

Her eyes opened, and he'd never been so relieved to see her look at him. There was an immense amount of pain in her dark eyes; he wanted to take it away from her. She shouldn't be in pain; she'd already had enough pain for one day.

He'd seen the bravado act she'd put on after her brief contact with the bullet, but he knew how much it had scared her. It had unnerved him, just how close she had come to being shot in full today. This, though – it was different from something happening in the line of duty. This seemed _abnormal_. Things like this weren't supposed to happen. They put their lives on the line every day at their jobs; it wasn't supposed to be this way when coming _home_ from work.

"Emily," He began, still touching her hand. "Do you know where you are?"

She blinked, looking at him, but he wasn't sure that she knew exactly what was going on. "You're in an ambulance." He reminded her. Prentiss' breathing turned shallow and struggled, and Hotch looked up in alarm towards the EMT.

The EMT came closer and Hotch backed up, his arms crossed across his chest, one hand by his mouth. He watched in silence as she listened to her breathing and placed a hand on her ribs. Hotch felt the blood drain out of his face as the EMT turned to her partner.

"I think she's got a punctured rib, Benton." He heard her say to her partner, and felt oddly disconnected from his surroundings. His eyes closed in pain.

"Hotch?"

His breath was stolen from his body as he came back into existence. "I'm still here." He assured her, moving back into her line of view and cursing himself for ever stepping out of it. Her voice was considerably weaker than he'd ever heard it; even after Cyrus' beatings she hadn't sounded this way, she'd sounded stronger than she did now and it scared him. "Hold on, we're almost there."

"Mhmm, good." She mumbled, closing her eyes again. A wave of pain passed over her face.

The ambulance pulled into the hospital, sirens still blaring.

--

**Author's Note: I love all of the response that I've been getting – it really motivates me to write. I'm going to try to keep on the schedule of an update a day – I had a hard time not updating twice yesterday, haha. I hope that you're still enjoying it – let me know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **

**If anyone just saw the preview for next week (**_**SPOILER**_**), I obviously had NO knowledge of that preview before I wrote this. **

**SPOILER**

**The fact that Prentiss was in a car crash in the next week of Criminal Minds was OBVIOUSLY not known to me before I began to write this. That story line has no connection to this fan fiction, though I did call up the awesomeness that is Agnixx and proclaim that I was, **_**obviously,**_** psychic. She agrees.**

**Remember, that preview of next week and the story line that that has has NO connection to this story. This is a completely different story line, one that I created before that preview. **

**I, uh, hope that's clear. I'm updating again tonight with tomorrow's chapter because I wanted to get this author's note out. If I get plenty of reviews, I'll update **_**again**_** tomorrow. **

**Stroke of Midnight**

Derek Morgan dreaded the phone call that he had to make. His fingers hesitated over the lit up numbers and he drew a shaky breath. There was no voice that he wanted to hear more than the one he had to call, but it was what it would do to that person that he couldn't stand. It would devastate her, it would crush her, and he wasn't even there by her side to reassure her. All he had was his voice.

He couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand to hear her cry – it was heartbreaking. Knowing that he'd caused those tears to start only made it worse. They'd been through a lot – plenty of tears had been shed – but he knew this would hurt her. There were three lives on the balance – he'd been there, seen them, and his heart was pounding with all that he didn't know about their conditions. What would it be like for someone who hadn't even seen them before they'd been loaded into the ambulances?

Somehow, he couldn't figure that _seeing_ them would be worse than _not_ seeing them. At least he'd been able to see with his own eyes that they were still alive.

Forcing those thoughts out of his head for the moment, he sighed once more and gritted his teeth, dialing Penelope Garcia's number before placing the phone in its holder and pressing 'speaker'.

"Office of Sexiness, how may I help _you_ today?"

Her voice, so chipper, almost made him smile. "Garcia."

"Something's wrong. Tell me what's wrong." She knew immediately from his voice, and he wished he could take it back – offer her one more moment of that innocent happiness that always lit her, but delaying it couldn't help anybody at this point.

"Garcia, baby, there's been an accident." He heard how strained his voice was.

"Oh god …" He heard her utter. "Oh god, Morgan, who … who's …"

"We're all alive, baby girl. " He could hear how she sighed on the other end of the line, could see the tears that he could hear her cry.

"Who was in it? What … what exactly was it, Derek? Car? Gun … "There were tears in her voice.

"Rossi, Reid and Prentiss." He had to say it quickly or else he'd never say it at all. As it was, he could barely say their names in connection to something so severe. "Their car was hit by a van that slipped on the black ice."

She wasn't holding her tears back. "How badly?"

"Rossi was conscious and talking." Morgan said, remembering. "Prentiss … Hotch went with her in the ambulance. I don't know what's wrong with her yet, Pen." He told her before she could ask. He could hear her measured breathing as she tried to steady herself. "JJ went with Reid."

"I'm coming." She announced, and he could hear movement on the other end of the line. "I'll be there in less than an hour, Morgan."

He paused, the words caught in his throat. "Please, baby girl. Drive carefully."

--

Every muscle in his body hurt, but he ignored it like the stubborn man that he was. One of the EMTs had attached an IV with fluids to his arm, the other taking the glass out of his hands. His head hurt, his chest felt like it was on fire from what he knew was strain from the impact. He'd been lucky – he knew that much. He'd been in accidents before, but never one like this. The mental image of Prentiss, sitting next to that window with glass strewn on her lap, her shoulder dislocated … it made him sick to his stomach.

"There's no way to know their condition?" He asked, finding the eyes of one of the medics.

She touched his shoulder comfortingly, but he didn't find it comforting after all he'd seen that day. "I'm sorry, sir. At this moment, our main priority is you."

"I'm perfectly fine." He insisted, moving his fingers – the only part of him that was able to move, not strapped down or confined by a neck brace – for emphasis. "Don't worry about me."

"It's my job." She said, patting his shoulder and adjusting the IV bag. Rossi sighed through his teeth – he wasn't going to get anywhere with this, he'd have to wait until he saw one of the team or a doctor – whichever came first.

She touched his side and he winced. "Broken rib." She told him, and he sighed again. "We'll check to make sure there's nothing damaged internally." She assured him, sending him a gentle smile, but he barely noticed. His mind was focused on those images – nearly more disturbing than the thought of Prentiss was the one that he _didn't_ have of Reid … he'd heard Prentiss speak to Hotch, he hadn't heard Reid at all. He swallowed, nervously, his hands shaking.

David Rossi closed his eyes and attempted to gain control of his breathing. There wasn't anything he could do, at the moment – worrying about this would only up his heart rate and make the EMTs even more attentive, when all he really wanted to do was know how Reid and Prentiss were.


	5. Chapter 5

**Stroke of Midnight**

Her eyes followed him, a safe, familiar anchor as the ambulance came to a stop and they unloaded her stretcher. He followed; his pace was brisk to keep up with the hurrying medics. Her thoughts began to grow slightly fuzzy around the edges.

"Female, 35, motor vehicle accident, presumed punctured lung." She heard the words spoken to a doctor as they entered the emergency room, but didn't immediately connect them to herself. It didn't seem right. She opened her mouth to speak but found she couldn't form words.

"Sir, please - we need you to step back."

Her eyes found Hotch again as she connected those words to him - he was getting further away, and she didn't understand. He was good at these things, always knew what to do in emergencies - they should have let him stay; it must have been a mistake. "Why?" She managed, feeling light headed and confused.

"Miss, we need you to remain calm." The voice sounded far away.

Hotch got smaller, and she forced away panic as lack of oxygen made her tired. As he disappeared from her sight - or did she disappear from his? - she felt scared, alone - but she wasn't going to show that to anyone. No, she had to remain strong. He'd – they'd all – gone through too much in the past few months for her not to remain strong now. Even in her confusion, she knew this.

--

He was left standing, alone, somewhere near the admittance desk. Hotch ran a hand through his hair, feeling numb, detached - a survival mechanism he'd long ago developed when interviewing victims, but there were some things you could not detach yourself from. This - it was probably one of those times.

But he _had_ to push it away. He had to remain dependable. Even with Morgan as the Unit Chief, he had to have that stability for them - and for himself. He feared he'd fallen apart too much in the past months.

He watched in silence as she was wheeled away, leaving him staring at a door that read "Medical Personnel Only."

It was only when he heard the sound of the emergency room doors opening again that he broke away, turning towards the incoming stretcher. The medics were wheeling Reid in, and JJ wasn't far behind. It was easy, incredibly easy, to see how disturbed by it she was. When they wheeled the stretcher past him, JJ didn't even acknowledge Hotch until he caught hold of her arm.

"Hotch?" She asked, confused.

"They're not letting us follow." He told her, carefully watching as she absorbed that piece of information. JJ nodded a couple of times before she pushed back her hair, full of snow.

"Alright. Okay. What do we do now?" Her voice was full of false control and artificial assurance.

JJ, the collected member of the team, the one who was unflappable. He could see how she was attempting to control herself, keep her image steady, and he hoped it wasn't for his sake. "We have to wait." He responded, and she nodded once more. Gently, he touched her shoulder, offering her the smallest of smiles – one that he realized, as with her control, was artificial.

The door opened again, a cold blast of air flowing in, and Rossi was wheeled in by two more medics. As he wheeled past, Hotch could see that the older man was awake, but he was wheeled by too quickly for any talking to occur.

"Are you family?"

A nurse, carrying a clipboard, asked them. He could feel JJ's eyes on him, waiting for his answer.

"I have power of attorney for Dr. Reid." Hotch said, and the woman handed him a form. "And Agent Prentiss doesn't have family with her at the moment." HE continued. JJ reached forward and took the form handed to her.

"Hand those back when you're ready." The nurse said before disappearing behind the desk once again.

They both moved back to sit on the chairs, though neither felt the need to sit. Resting the paper on a magazine against her knee, JJ turned to Hotch. Her heart was beating too fast, making her nauseous. "How was she, Hotch?"

With Reid's admittance form rested against his knee, he shook his head. The shake of his head was barely perceptible, but it was there. "Dazed, confused. EMT thinks she punctured a lung." There was vulnerability in his voice, coming from having witnessed her in that state.

JJ pushed a hand through her hair, holding it back from her face. "Spence was out of it." She said, not waiting for him to ask. Her shoulders lifted in a small, helpless shrug, and she shook her head. "I don't know … what exactly was wrong." She admitted, and leaned back against the chair, biting her lip.

"JJ," He said, and she looked at him. "It's okay to …" He paused, thinking about his words. "to _not_ be okay right now." JJ's eyes found the ceiling. "We're not in front of them." Over the past few months, he'd learned that more than ever – when being okay and not being okay were acceptable. For the most part, he'd tried – in front of his son and his team – to keep up the façade of being slightly better than he really was, but at times, that façade had been broken.

She let out a shaky sigh, words escaping her. She was automatically filtering any sentence that came to her head – even though she knew how ridiculous it was, she didn't want to say anything that would upset him. Finally, she found her words. "I know." Was all she said before signing her name on the bottom of Prentiss' admittance sheet and standing up. Reaching out, she took Reid's completed form from Hotch and went to hand in the sheets at the front desk.

**Author's Note: **

Some of you may have missed the previous chapter - I updated last night (around 11 o' clock for those on the east coast), and there's a lengthly author's note at the beginning. Please review it, because that'd be awesome. (er, review the chapter. not the author's note.)

Please, if you're reading - review? I love hearing from you guys.

If I can manage, there'll be another chapter up later today. If not - expect one tomorrow!


	6. Chapter 6

**/Stroke of Midnight**

"What do we know so far?" Morgan asked upon entering the emergency room ten minutes later. There was snow on the collar of his dark jacket. He'd barely been close to the area where Hotch and JJ sat before asking his question.

Hotch shook his head. "Not much. There's no news on Reid, but they thought Prentiss had a punctured lung." Again he tried to detach himself from his words but found it nearly impossible. He knew he was being a hypocrite, after what he'd just told JJ, but he couldn't help it. Years of being strong, stoic, made him feel the need to profess that. He had to be able to handle it, had to prove that after Haley's death, even if it was only for his own head. "They're being helped right now. Rossi as well."

Morgan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed lightly in front of his chest. A sigh whistled between his clenched teeth. "We're staying the night." It wasn't a question. They weren't leaving three members of their team here alone – because they were a team, they weren't about to leave them behind.

Hotch nodded once, feeling the same. "I need to call Jessica and let her know – I'll need to talk to Jack later, but he doesn't expect me home until morning." He muttered, but his face was stoic and he showed no signs of his disappointment. "I suggest you call your families as well – I don't know when we'll be out of here." The problem was that he'd _need_ to be out of here by later today – it was Christmas Eve, and he had to spend it with Jack. He couldn't leave Jack alone on his first Christmas Eve without his mother.

J.J.'s legs were tucked up next to her chest, her chin resting on one knee, her eyes staring far off into space. "I'll call Will in the morning." She said, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed deeply.

Morgan ran a hand over his head, opening his mouth to say something. Before he got the chance, however, his phone buzzed. The profiler reached for it, aware of JJ and Hotch staring at him as he answered. "Yeah, Garcia." Again his voice held none of the cheer that it normally did when talking to her. He checked the time on his watch – 12:30.

"I'm about a half hour out, Morgan." She began. "Don't worry, I'm being careful." She moved from one sentence to the other with barely a breath. "Do we have any news on them? Her voice was breathless, and he wondered if she'd forgotten to breath.

"Not yet, Pen." He answered, sighing. "I'll let you know as soon as we do."

"Okay. Alright." He heard her say, and heard a car honking in the background. He cringed. "What can I get for you guys, then?" She asked, and he recognized it immediately – she felt she could do nothing, so she was going to try to do everything, the mother duck taking care of her ducklings.

He looked at them – J.J.'s eyes near closing and Hotch putting on an act. "Coffee would do us all some good, Garcia." He admitted.

"Coffee. Coffee, good, I can do coffee."

"Alright, baby girl, drive carefully." He told her, before hanging up the phone and turning back to the team.

"How is she?" Hotch asked, and Morgan knew exactly what he meant.

"She's panicking." He admitted. Hotch nodded.

Several more moments passed in silence. JJ fell asleep with her chin against her knee, and Morgan put his jacket around her shoulders when he saw her shivering. Neither had the heart to wake her, even though she'd be upset she'd fallen asleep. Morgan passed the time leaning against the wall – too anxious to resume the pacing he normally kept up in situations like this. In the silence, Hotch was reliving the moments of the ambulance, hoping that what the EMT had guessed wasn't true. It wouldn't be an easy trip for Prentiss if she did have a punctured lung.

When the clock turned to 12:54, a doctor with graying hair approached the three members of the team. The man was carrying a clipboard in his left hand, and a stethoscope hung around his neck.

"David Rossi?" He called out. JJ woke as if it had been her name that had been called. Hotch stood, alerting the doctor to their presence. "Hello." He said. "I'm Dr. Jackman."

"SSA Hotchner, SSA Morgan, and SA Jareau." Hotch said. Morgan didn't contend with the older man taking the leadership. "How is he?"

Dr. Jackman smiled kindly. "Lucky." Was his first answer. "Mild concussion, dislocated shoulder, and a broken wrist. He's awake right now and his vitals are stable."

Each of them breathed a sigh of relief, but it was momentary – they still had Reid and Prentiss to worry over.

JJ looked at Hotch, then back at Dr. Jackman. "Can he have visitors?"

"I would advise it." Dr. Jackman said, caught between a laugh and a sigh. "I've already had one nurse walk out on me."

Brows furrowed in confusion.

"He's insistent upon finding out the condition of the other two passengers. I'm not their doctor, we don't know – but that's not stopping him from asking. I assume one of you knows at least something about them – something more than we do."

Hotch nodded. "I'll go." He stood, looking back towards the team. They looked so _tired_, worn out, and he knew that he had to look even worse. "If there's news…"

"We'll let you know."

**TBC**

**Author's Note: **

**We'll be joining Prentiss next chapter. I feel like this chapter didn't have as much meaning, but it was necessary … so I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Let me know? **

**I don't think that I can thank you guys enough. All of you are amazing. I jumped from forty reviews to around seventy! If it's not too much to ask … review? It is Chanukah, after all – Happy Holidays, to those who celebrate! All of you made my day yesterday with your reviews. **

**Oh, **_**major**_** shout outs to dragonflytwin and Ileana22 for the medical help. This one's for you. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Stroke of Midnight**

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

That was a man's voice. In her head, she struggled, trying to find her way back towards the surface. It was confusing, she couldn't figure out which way was up and which way was down – as if she'd dove into the ocean and had a wave crash violently over her head.

She'd thought she'd made a noise, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't be sure of anything. There was something on her face, on her nose, and it was strangely irritating to her. She swallowed once or twice, still trying to find her way to the surface of consciousness.

She finally opened her eyes, seeing nothing but fuzzy, blurred shapes for a moment. Emily Prentiss blinked a couple of times, and the shapes came into focus. There was the source of the voice, hovering a few inches away from her.

"Welcome back." He said kindly, and she replied with a moan.

As she came out of the haze, she became aware of an intense pain that started in her head and got worse as she went downwards. She became aware of an intense pain in her underarm – her chest felt tight. She bit down on her lip hard enough that she tasted blood.

She felt someone's hand, warm on her own, and found it surprising how much she wished it was Hotch's. That admission came as a shock to her.

She attempted to remain focused on the doctor's face – wanting and needing the anchor she'd previously found in Hotch. It was as if she'd found a safe place near him, a place nearly without pain. Tears leaked from her eyes without her consent. She wanted that place back, so badly that it almost hurt more than this.

She was scared, terribly scared. She didn't know what of – whether it was this or her sudden dependency. It was highly probable that it was the latter. She'd always depended on herself – there were seldom few she'd truly let in.

The doctor spoke again, and she brought her mind back to him, as difficult as she found concentration to be. "Emily, your fractured rib punctured your right lung." She was aware of him saying. "I'm Dr. Crosgrove. We're placing a chest tube."

She was also vaguely aware of her arm being over her head, and that it must be the source of the pain. "You were lucky as far as head injuries go. Your concussion was very mild. There was a lot of glass, but we've cleaned it out."

She made a non committal noise of understanding, gritting her teeth through more pain and stopping herself from spitting out several choice words she knew of. As much as her sudden found dependence wanted Hotch there, the smaller part of her was glad he wasn't there.

He didn't need to see her like this.

--

Spencer Reid wasn't entirely uncertain that he wasn't dead .Simple logic told him that he hadn't died, but he wasn't listening to logic at the moment. Logic had escaped the young man.

The room was white, and blurred through his eyes. There was a window, and outside the window was even more white, falling past the pane of glass. He felt as if the inside of his head was spinning, and he was vaguely sure he was lying down. He soon became aware of white sheets and noises – people, talking.

_Oh god, I'm not dead. I'm insane_. His hazel eyes were wide and he almost bolted upwards when he felt a warm hand holding him down. _They're restraining me. I've always been afraid of this. It was bound to happen sometime, I knew the statistics of it happening. I need…_

"Spencer, calm down." A voice said, and he found there was someone in the room. Relief flooded through him – the voices weren't in his head. "Do you remember the accident?"

"I… I, no. what?" He asked. The last thing he remembered, Rossi had been talking about New York City and … and then JJ had been there, briefly, but he only remembered her being there and not why or how she'd gotten there.

"You were in a car crash. "The man said. "Don't worry, some amnesia is common. You have a moderate concussion. I'm pleased you're awake."

He struggled to remember. Jack had wanted to see the tree, hadn't he? "I … I don't re-remember. "

"That's alright, son." The man said. "Again, amnesia is common. You also fractured your right shin. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Reid muttered miserably. As he became aware of his injuries, pain flared there.

"That's good. You have on your files that you don't want painkillers. The most we can possibly give you at the moment is Tylenol, but when you're allowed more – has that changed?"

Horrible images from his past flashed in his head. He cringed. "No drugs."

"Alright." The doctor said, still seeming skeptical. "You'll let us know if that's changed?"

Stubborn even in pain, he said, "It won't."

--

He'd seen the inside of hospitals too often. He'd say it came with the territory, but it didn't mean he had to ever really accept it. Especially in the past few months. The only time he'd ever seen happiness in one of these places was twice – the first was the glorious day his son had been born, and the second was meeting Henry LaMontagne.

His heart constricted painfully at the thought of her. Sad, grieving fluttering danced in his chest. He'd never misplace those feelings, but he knew he'd learn to move past them, live and be happy with that grief still stored somewhere. That it would get easier.

At least, that's what he'd been told. That was what he chose to believe. Humans had amazing abilities of recovery.

Day by day, it got easier. It was barely noticeable daily, but over time, it built up to a noticeable amount.

He found the room he was looking for, E208. Hotch pushed open the door and was relieved.

David Rossi was sitting up propped against the headboard. He looked none too happy, but his happiness wasn't what Hotch had been concerned about.

"They won't tell me a damn thing, Aaron." Rossi greeted him.

Hotch shook his head, still relieved. "I'm going to need to send flowers to that nurse." He was only half joking, but he knew what Rossi wanted to hear. "I don't know much about Reid. JJ said he was confused and in and out of consciousness." The sight of his friend – even though he was fairly alright and sitting up – near a hospital bed with a cast on his arm was disconcerting.

Rossi muttered a curse under his breath. "Prentiss?"

His heart stopped, his jaw tightened. "They think she's got a punctured lung, Dave."

This time, the curse was highly audible. "And you've got nothing else?"

Hotch remained silent for a moment. He had plenty – he had the frightened look he'd seen in Prentiss' eyes when they'd wheeled her in. He had the shivering, terrified exhaustion of JJ. He had a panicking Garcia and Morgan, who was struggling not to lose his cool.

He had plenty. "Nothing." He said, protecting Rossi from all he didn't need to know. "You'll know as soon as we do." He wondered if his friend could see right through that – the act he was putting on, the _'everything is alright, things will be fine' _face that even he didn't believe.

If he did see through it, he didn't say anything. Maybe the older man was doing a bit of protecting himself – letting Hotch get away with it. "You're not going to spring me from here, are you? "Rossi said irritably, looking towards the door in mock anger. He sighed. "Go. They need you. Give 'em my regards."

"You sure?" Hotch said in surprise.

Rossi fixed his friend with a look. He didn't need to have visitors – he was perfectly fine on his own and didn't need every person he knew sitting there watching him in pain. It wasn't going to do him, or them, any good at all.

"Alright." Hotch said, resigned. "Just stop terrorizing them. Please. I don't have enough cash for a dozen roses."

"Put it on my tab."

**TBC**

_Author's Note: _

_I'm so sorry that this was late. I'm getting it in _almost_ on the right day, aren't I? It's only midnight. (It's almost the stroke of midnight, actually. Sorry, bad pun.) I was out all day for a family dinner and I wrote this on the two hour car drives there and back. _

_Major props to my family, who didn't even flinch when I shouted out, "Who has another word for armpit?!" In fact, they answered me. That's where the word underarm comes from. Thanks, grandma. _

_Thank you, reviewers! And readers. You're all amazing beyond words. I jump around like a little kid on Christmas. Honestly. Oh, and during chapter three, it says "punctured rib". Should have been "lung". Obviously, I've only got half of a brain. The other half of my brain is currently taking a vacation in panama. _

_This is a long note, yes. We'll be joining the rest of the team again next chapter, and our lovely mother hen herself will make an appearance. Please review? It means the world to me – and if I don't get around to an author's reply to you, please know that I meant to. Sometimes, I accidentally skip over people. If I do – I promise to try better next time! Also, any medical mistakes are my own, because I have dragonflytwin helping me out and she's amazing, and all medical mistakes are hereby my own. _

_OH, and do you know what's horribly annoying? When you start to feel pain for the character you're writing about. Thanks, Spencer, for the ginormous headache and the constant pain in my shin. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Stroke of Midnight**

There was something cold about the air, as if it hadn't moved in a very long time, as if the room itself had had something sucked out of it with the absence of Rossi, Prentiss, Reid, and Hotch. There was movement, of course – there were plenty of doctors, nurses, crossing from room to room, but the two members of the BAU seemed to exist in their own separate sphere, disconnected from the rest of the world's happenings. Perhaps it was because they were joined in such a strong way – spending more time together than they sometimes spent with their family – that they existed together in such a separate sphere.

They were silent. It was an understanding among them that no words needed to be spoken – their relief of Rossi's fair luck was brief, fleeting, and guilty. There were others that they still needed to worry about – they couldn't truly feel grateful for Rossi until they knew that the others were alright.

Every once in awhile, Morgan would push off of the wall he was leaning against and take a couple of steps before going back and leaning against the wall again. He was too anxious to sit – not only were there two lives in the balance, but Garcia was on those very roads at the moment, and he could hardly stand the thought. He couldn't help but think that she was going to rush, and that the car would slide on the very black ice that had caused this accident. He knew that, in some way, it was unreasonable, but he couldn't help that mental image from cropping up. He shook his head, leaning back against the wall again. Morgan closed his eyes, trying for some sort of momentary solace but finding none. He wanted nothing more than for them all to be safe. He'd always wanted them all to be safe, but it was an even heavier responsibility now that he was Unit Chief. When he made a decision, it all rested on him. He'd only just begun to understand what Hotch had really been doing all these years.

Some part of him knew that this wasn't his fault. This wasn't something he could have prevented with a different decision. They'd all elected to go home tonight – but he'd allowed it. Wasn't that his decision? He should have said something, should have told them it was too dangerous – even if they'd all made that decision together, he felt he should have stopped it.

He sighed, running a hand over his head. He looked towards the remaining member of his team, sitting with her chin on her knee. His coat still dangled loosely around her small shoulders. He had two sisters back at home in Chicago, but Jennifer Jareau was his third, and he loved her no less than his biological ones. It pleased him to see that she was sleeping, however lightly – between Henry and Will, and all that had happened in the past few months, he was sure she was getting barely enough.

Slowly, he sank down to the floor next to her chair, his back against the wall. He sighed, suddenly more exhausted than he'd been in days. During cases, staying awake was easier – there was a lot of work to do, and nobody truly wanted to sleep until the menace was caught. When they got home, the exhaustion caught up, but sleep was usually impossible – nightmares usually plagued them, nightmares of the ones they hadn't saved. It was usually worse in a case such as this – one that involved children. With a job like this, the nightmares weren't something you could escape.

"Morgan?"

He looked up, having been unaware that she was awake. "Hey." Morgan answered, his head back against the wall. "What's up?"

She shook her head, turning so he was in her line of sight. "I didn't see you, that's all." She leaned her head against the back of her chair. As a child, she'd never had brothers or sisters – Morgan came as close to a brother as she'd ever had. "I can't stand to lose another of you." Her voice was light, but there was something fiercely protective in her eyes. Their silence of previous moments had been broken, shattered by the liaison's protective words.

"I'm not leaving, JJ." He assured her. "Go back to sleep."

She shook her head, her eyes on the emergency room door. Morgan turned, finding where she was looking. Penelope Garcia was entering the hospital. There was a giant flower in her hair and she carried a tray of coffees.

"Hey, mama." He said once she was closer, but his words were strained and out of place.

"Where's Hotch?" She asked immediately. "He's not… he didn't…"

"No, Garcia." JJ calmed her. "He wasn't in the accident. Hotch is with Rossi right now. Fractured wrist, mild concussion, but he's going to be fine. We're waiting for news on Prentiss and Reid."

Shakily, she handed over one of the coffees to Morgan, and another one to JJ, before sitting down in the nearest chair. "And the both of you are okay?" She asked, nervously, after a couple of moments, eyes going between the both of them. "Yes?"

"We're fine, baby girl." Morgan answered, as JJ nodded. "Just a bit tired and worried."

"Okay. Drink your coffees." She implored, pausing before looking down one of the hallways. "Here comes Hotch." She said, lifting her eyes in that direction. Morgan stood immediately, taking a couple of steps away from the wall and towards the former unit chief of the BAU.

"How is he?" He asked the question instantly. JJ was sitting up straighter, hoping for good news. The news from the doctor wouldn't be true until one of their own could confirm it.

"He sends his regards." He answered, noticing the visible relaxation of the agents in front of him. "They'll end up kicking him out of here in no more than two or three days." He knew from experience – typical in his line of work – that it was the normal time for a mild concussion, and they wouldn't be keeping him any longer. The stubborn man wasn't going to allow it.

"The short version – he's okay?" Garcia asked, and Hotch confirmed it with a weary nod.

She wasn't a profiler, but she didn't have to be one to see how exhausted he was. It was right there in his eyes, but he didn't sit down. She didn't need to be a profiler to know _why_ that was, either. Wordlessly, she handed over a coffee. The only thing she could do to rectify the situation.

Time moved faster with more of them together. It was nearly one thirty in the morning before another doctor presented himself to them. This man was younger than Dr. Jackman, slightly shorter, and had sandy brown hair. He carried two clipboards, and all of their hearts sped up.

"Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid?" He asked. "I was told to expect a fairly large group."

"That's us." Hotch again spoke for the group, unaware of Morgan's slight relaxation behind him.

"I'm Dr. Crosgrove." He said. "Emily's doctor. Dr. Messing – Dr. Reid's doctor – is dealing with another urgent case. Since the both of them have the same group, I'm covering for her."

Hotch nodded at the information. "How are they?" His heart pressed against his chest.

"They're both stable, for the moment. Miss Prentiss had a punctured lung. We've placed a test tube."

Garcia's face had fallen considerably, the color drained. She was clutching JJ's hand. Morgan's face was distressed.

"We've repaired a dislocated shoulder and a fractured right leg."

Hotch's heart was pounding; he felt sick. "Is she awake?" He nearly hoped she wasn't. Even though he knew it was better, safer, for her to be awake, he couldn't stand the thought of her being conscious through all of that. She was a strong person, yes, but waking up and being alone, in pain …

"Partially." He said. "She woke up when we were placing the chest tube."

His heart fell, fast. "Dr. Reid?"

He checked the file. "Dr. Messing noted a moderate concussion and a broken shin. He doesn't remember the accident." Morgan's jaw clenched.

"He's going to … pull through, right?" Garcia asked, pausing with teary eyes.

"They were both lucky." He said. "As long as there are no complications for either of them, there's a good chance they'll have near to full recovery in time."

Hotch let out a sigh, but it did nothing to calm the anger he felt at the pain they were in right now. "Can we visit?"

Dr. Crosgrove nodded. "One at a time. Miss Prentiss has been agitated. She started asking for an Aaron. Which one of you-"

All eyes went to Hotch, but he was already gone.

**TBC**

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Some of you may have missed the last chapter. I was away on a family dinner, and I couldn't update until Saturday night, around midnight. I know, I'm sorry – but the next chapter should hopefully make up for all of this. I'm hoping that all of you are still enjoying this – I know I'm enjoying writing it. Unfortunately, I've got a research paper due the twenty third of December – I'm going to keep updating every day, I'm crossing my fingers that it will remain a promise. I'm going to have a hard time not updating tomorrow's chapter today, but I'm going to hold out. _

_Thank you to all of my reviewers, newcomers and ones that have been here from the start. Please, please review – they make a sucky day better. Sucky = having to start that research paper tonight instead of typing out tomorrow's chapter or updating another one of my fics._

_Also, remember that any and all medical mistakes are my own. Like the infamous punctured rib. Which was not so much a mistake as a ridiculous typo. I think I've invented a new medical malfunction … _

_Anyway. Happy Hanukkah, to any and all of you who celebrate. _

_So, yes – please review? I'd love to hear what you thought. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Stroke of Midnight**

Prompt:House – Guardian Angels

He was gone, already, before the doctor had asked which one of them Aaron was. It might have been different – _might_ have been different, if she hadn't asked for him, but she had. If she didn't want or need to be alone right now, he wasn't going to let her be.

It was only when he was halfway down the hallway where the elevator was that he realized he hadn't found out her room number. He would have searched every room until he found her, if that's what it took, but he didn't want to make her wait that long. He couldn't stand the thought of it – her being alone.

He wasn't sure exactly why, either.

He turned in an attempt to find the nearest nurses station, but found himself in luck when he saw the approaching figure of Dr. Crosgrove. He let out a sigh of relief – explaining who he was and why he was going to visit her wasn't going to be as easy as having the doctor tell him where she was immediately. He waited until the man had caught up with him before starting forward again.

"You left before I could tell you where she was." The man began as they paused at the elevator, waiting for its arrival. "Room G404 – fourth floor."

"Thank you." He said quickly, waiting for the elevator's arrival. It seemed to take longer than usual, solely because he wanted it to arrive.

"She might not be fully aware." He reminded Hotch. "She was in quite a bit of pain when she asked for you; she might not fully remember asking. I'd be careful, if I were you – I don't want her to get over excited."

The elevator doors opened. "I will be." He assured the man, before he stepped inside and the elevator doors closed behind him.

--

Her room was singular, which he was glad for. He opened the door with a, the curtains on the glass windows were drawn, rendering it impossible to see her inside before he stepped in.

She looked up.

"Hi." Her voice was cracked, small, nervous, and faded, but there was no mistaking the relief there. She didn't have the strength to disguise it. There was someone else there now, someone familiar. It gave her more comfort than she'd thought it could.

"Hey." He said gently, moving closer to her bedside, pulling a plastic chair with him. His heart was breaking again.

She was crying. That much was undeniable. Her eyes were rimmed red, and, as he moved closer to her, he could see that there were still tears on her cheeks. That was what shocked him most of all. It wasn't the stitches from the class, or how small she looked among the sheets. He'd seen her cry before, of course- when reunited with Reid after Cyrus's compound, and at Haley's funeral ... but this was different. She'd been crying for someone else, then, not herself.

He'd never seen her cry in pain.

She hadn't spoken again, most likely trying to regain control. Her chin was jutted, her lower lip bleeding – how many times had she bitten it? He felt a spark of anger, buzzing in his veins. Someone should have, at least, made note of that and stopped her from it. Was anyone paying attention to her? He knew, immediately, how irrational that thought was – of course they were. His anger was misplaced, simply because it had nowhere to go.

So, he did the only thing that he could think of to do – there were tissues on the bedside table, and he took one. Being careful of her stitches, Hotch dried the tears away from her face. She didn't look at him, letting him dry the tears from the corners of her eyes.

"Thank you." She said, finally, grimacing. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Emily." Gently, he reached out and touched her hand. "What do you need me to do?"

She paused, finally looking at him. It wasn't hard to remember how badly she'd wished he was there with her earlier or how much that need had scared her … but was it possible that she'd asked for him, out loud?

"It's alright." He reassured her, noticing how shaken she looked. There were wires and tubes protruding from her right side, connecting to a two chambered collection system. The water in them bubbled whenever she took a breath. "Em, it's natural to be scared."

Her sudden nickname was all she took from that. She held on to it as if it would ground her there. "I just … needed a familiar face." She murmured shakily. "I'm sorry." She said again.

"It's fine." He said, quickly. "I'm here as long as you need me. None of us are leaving the hospital tonight."

"Jack-"

"Doesn't expect me home until morning. It's only one thirty. I'll call Jessica when I can." He finished. He couldn't admit that every moment away from his son was terrifying, that he had nightmares when he was away. Jack was doing alright. That was all that mattered in this, his own feelings aside. Right now, as long as he wasn't getting any panicked phone calls from Jessica, Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi were his priority.

"Are you sure?" She'd hardly expected to see him, much less have him remain there.

"You were there for me after Foyet's attack." His words didn't come without pain. "Let me return the favor." He didn't mention that he'd have stayed even if she hadn't been _half_ as supportive as she'd been.

She was growing tired. "Thank you." She said, again, before her face grew tight.

"What hurts?" He asked automatically, his hand coming up to touch her left shoulder. "Can I help?"

She was biting her lip again, holding her breath. He rubbed her arm quickly, trying to get her attention back. "Breathe, Emily. I know it's painful, but you need to take a breath." Thankfully, she did, albeit a shaky one. "That's it. Good. Take another." He coached, and she did. Noticing fresh tears, he wiped them away carefully with his thumb.

"Hurts when I breathe. Rib." She explained shakily between measured breaths. "They keep coming in and making me cough."

It was his turn to apologize. "Try to think of something else."

"Of what?" She asked, looking towards him. He was leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees. The sight gave her comfort. Some part of her, however deep seated it was, had wanted him here. It was unbelievably selfish, but she was glad Jack didn't expect him until morning. She needed him here. Perhaps it would have been different if Jack had expected him home. She wouldn't have let him see, then, just how tired and in pain she was. "One of the doctors is coming back soon. They're going to check on this." She indicated the tube with her eyes.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked, carefully. After a moment, she nodded, grimacing with the movement. The pause hadn't been to decide whether she wanted him there or not, but rather if she wanted him to _have_ to stay and be there for that or not. She could already see anger, guilt, flickering in his eyes.

"You need to trust me, then." He hated this – seeing her so hurt and unsure. She didn't deserve it by any stretch of the imagination. He'd take it away from her in a heartbeat – he'd do so for any of the members of his team, but it had always been a little bit different with her. Maybe it had started when she took the beating for Reid at Cyrus's compound, maybe it had always been this way. He didn't know, he couldn't find the _why_ involved. "Close your eyes."

"My eyes?" She repeated, already closing them.

He placed his hand on top of hers. "I'm not leaving." He promised, relaxing a bit when he saw her face relax. "If you fall asleep, I'll wake you when the nurse comes in." And he'd be sure, too, that it would be him waking her. No matter how kind nurses were, it was always unsettling to see someone unfamiliar when you woke up somewhere unfamiliar. He knew she couldn't sleep for too long – anybody with even a mild concussion couldn't.

And then, he began to talk.

He told her how Jack wanted to buy presents for all of his 'aunts and uncles' when they were in NYC.

He told her how they were planning to go ice skating while they were there. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that he saw the ghost of a smile when he mentioned he'd never been on ice skates before.

He told her how Jack wanted a _real_ explanation of how Santa was coming into Daddy's house when Daddy didn't have a fireplace. The explanation, that together, they had come up with, was the heating vents.

By the time he was telling her about Jack's new found fondness for sugar cookies, she'd fallen asleep.

**TBC**

_Author's Note: _

_I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Please review, if you're reading – it helps me know that there _are _people reading this. I really want to know what you think of this chapter, so please share your thoughts. _

_Thanks again to all the people who reviewed last chapter – I managed to get a full page of my research paper done, and hearing from you guys while I took my break absolutely made my day. Thanks again! _

_Also, thanks to Kavi and Sienna – the prompt that inspired this chapter came from their community of TV prompts. I'm much grateful for that, so this chapter goes out to the both of you. Read their stories – they're awesome. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Stroke of Midnight**

TV Prompt – Law & Order: The Secret Sharers

He'd stopped talking once he was sure she was asleep. He could tell – the pain in her expression had slowly begun to drift away. Hotch was glad he could offer her that small comfort of a couple moments rest. It was inevitable that she'd be woken up eventually – the nurses weren't going to let her sleep for more than an hour, not with a concussion.

Her expression suddenly turned more somber, fretful. He wondered if she was having a nightmare. He was used to those, but it didn't seem fair for her to have them.

She didn't have to for too long – while sitting there at a loss for what to do to put an end to her nightmares, a nurse entered the room. She was tall, with long dark hair and eyes that said she was more than tired of being on the night shift. She did have a sympathetic smile on her face, directed at Hotch.

"I'm sorry." She began. "I need to wake her."

He nodded, but did not step away.

"You can step outside until we're done." The woman said, a bit more persistently. "It'll only take a moment."

He ignored her for a second. "Prentiss." He asked, softly. He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. "Prentiss. Emily, you need to wake up." She moaned in response. "I know; I'm sorry."

She made a small, annoyed noise, her eyes still closed. It almost amused him, how ordinary that sound was, as if this were a simple on plane wake up. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Aaron." His first name was the response that slipped out, but she didn't seem to notice she'd said it.

"This'll only take a moment. Do you want Aaron to wait outside?" The nurse asked, flipping a page on the chart.

Prentiss groaned, wanting to crawl back into the darkness, even if there was a lingering fear involved that she couldn't put her finger on. "He can stay." She answered.

The nurse came around to the other side, checking on the two chambered collection system. "Can you cough, please?"

She looked towards Hotch almost involuntarily. In quiet support, he offered his hand. Her heart skipped a beat and she took it. He squeezed it, tightly, before nodding encouragingly.

She coughed, and he noticed how quickly her eyes had closed again. The broken rib had to be causing her pain, and he could do nothing to ease it. It hurt to see her in pain.

"Breathe deeply?"

There was a look in her eyes, when she opened them. It wasn't a happy one, but it was one that he recognized as instantly familiar – her 'pissed/going to kill someone' expression.

Needing to see her smile, he mouthed the words 'I'll help'. The momentary near smile he received, even if it didn't reach her eyes, was all that mattered at that moment.

"Alright, you're looking good." She said, smiling gently. "Let her rest. I'll be back in a n hour." She left the room, and Prentiss turned an almost amused gaze on Hotch.

"Really?" She said, wincing with the word.

"I'll bring the pitchfork." He said seriously, and she grinned. He found that her smile was enchanting, especially after such pain and sadness. There'd been too much of that, recently.

"Go back to sleep." He said, but she denied.

"How are Reid and Rossi?"

He shook his head. "There's already been one nurse who walked out on Rossi." Hotch explained. "He apparently wouldn't take no for an answer when he asked about your and Reid's conditions."

"Typical." She muttered, but was relieved. If he was terrorizing medical staff, he had to be alright. "Reid?" She asked, almost tentatively. She had to admit, the reason she hadn't asked until now was because she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She'd been hoping she was the only one in the hospital still, as unrealistic as that was – she'd hoped Hotch would tell her upon entering the room that Reid and Rossi were fine.

"Moderate concussion, broken shin. He'll be alright." He didn't know if that was true or not – but he didn't have the heart to tell her anything else, and it wasn't exactly a lie. The doctor had said he had a good chance of full recovery – that they both did. "Try to rest."

"I have a secret." She confessed, looking over at him. Neither noticed that her hand was still squeezing his. He was silent, giving her the right to continue at her own speed.

"I was scared, Hotch." She admitted. "After everything we've seen, this scared me the most." She didn't mention the other reason for her fear – the reason that had little to do with the crash and everything to do with him. No, she wasn't ready to tell him that yet.

"It's alright. This would scare anyone." He assured her.

"I don't know." She didn't know about a lot of things. "I'm still afraid." She said, finally.

He squeezed her hand. "Nobody is asking you to be brave. Nobody will think any less of you."

A wave of pain passed over her leg and she tightened her hold on his fingers. "How are you boys doing?" She asked, ragging her mind away from herself.

"We're getting by." He said after a moment of searching for the right words. "Jack doesn't always understand."

"He's young."

Hotch took a breath. "Emily, he's not that young. I don't have enough time to do … what she asked me to do. I don't know how."

"Aaron-"

"I don't want to fail him."

"_You're not going to_." She promised. "You couldn't if you tried. He's got so much love in him already." They'd all heard that phone call – none of them would forget it.

"What happens when he grows up and blames me?" His voice was barely present.

"He's got more sense than that." Prentiss said, her heart aching. He was afraid of failing in something he couldn't possible fail in. "He loves you so much. You're his hero."

"I miss her." The admission was shaky. "She was so much better with this. With Jack."

"It takes time, Hotch." She remembered losing Matthew. It was hardly the same thing – but that los shad taken a long time to recover from. The man before her – she could see so much sadness in his eyes, so much guilt. All she could do was hope that, over time, it would get easier for him.

It hurt to see him in pain.

"I don't know how to teach him to love." He couldn't look at her, his eyes on his knees. "I need to show him."

"You will."

_Author's Note:_

_This was originally supposed to be tomorrow's chapter – Reid and Morgan were supposed to be today, but they'll be tomorrow now. I hope that you enjoyed this – please review! Short author's note today. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Stroke of Midnight **

Morgan paused at the door to Reid's hospital room. After Hotch's departure, he'd been unanimously voted to be the one to go. He couldn't decide yet, whether it was better his young friend didn't remember the accident. It might be less painful that way, but this was Reid, after all – the genius who never forgot a single thing would probably beat himself up over forgetting.

Just because he was Unit Chief didn't mean he was going to ignore the fact that Reid was probably freaking out. Morgan had never had a brother, but that kid came pretty damn close. He had responsibilities that came first, before being the temporary boss. They weren't on the job right now.

Morgan pushed open the door, and the sight inside of the room was more shocking than he had imagined it would be. He'd seen the young man in hospitals before: the last time he'd been shot, and the time before that he'd been infected by a deadly pathogen. Somehow, this was different. This was worse.

"Hey, kid." He said, trying for some semblance of normalcy. The typical 'how are you feeling?' would drive Reid nuts, but saying nothing else felt wrong as well. "Can I get you something?" He asked instead.

"Morgan." There was surprise in his voice. "You weren't in the accident?" Reid's eyes were confused.

"No, I'm fine." Morgan assured him. "It's you we're all worried about, kid."

"Then who was?" Morgan could almost see the wheels turning in the young man's brain as he tried to piece together jumbled memories. "Not JJ." It wasn't a question. He'd seen her, but she hadn't been there right before, when they'd been talking about Jack and Hotch … when his memory faded away.

"She rode with you in the ambulance." Morgan supplied, trying to help.

"I remember that, a little." He answered, his brow furrowed. "I remember seeing her face. She was there." He paused, one hand going to his head. They'd been talking about Jack and Hotch … Rossi had been talking about Jack and Hotch and Prentiss had been asking questions. "Rossi and Prentiss. They were in the accident. Where are they?"

Morgan pulled up a chair. "They're okay, kid. Hotch is with Prentiss. She was pretty banged up, but she'll live." He didn't want to go into details. If he did, Reid would only begin to go through statistics in his head, and he'd start to panic. He didn't want that.

"Rossi." He said, a pale hand rubbing at his temple. "How's Rossi?"

"He's fine. Already terrorizing people. Garcia and JJ are going to go visit him." He'd left the two of them back in the emergency room, and he knew that was what they were planning to do. None of them were leaving the hospital that night.

Reid was quiet for a moment before he spoke, looking towards the older man, disappointment in his eyes. "I just got off of crutches." The young genius said with a sigh. "I'll be in a wheelchair now." With his eyes, he indicated his leg. "After a few weeks, I'll be on crutches again. I was in the backseat of the car ... Emily was in the front, Morgan." He remembered that fact suddenly. "She was far more likely to have been injured than I was." He hadn't failed to notice that his friend hadn't said much about her.

Morgan sighed. "That crash did nothing to your genius, pretty boy."

Reid scowled, and the room spun around him as he shifted. "You said almost nothing about her. How is she, really?"

He gave up. "Hotch was with her the most - but she was pretty badly off, kid. One of her ribs punctured her lung and the crash broke her leg as well. The doctor said she has a good chance for full recovery - she's conscious." Morgan cringed as he saw Reid's expression: struggling to deal with all of the facts those words had brought on. "Emily's a fighter." He added, seriously.

"How are the rest of you?" Reid asked shakily.

Morgan sighed again. "Garcia was panicked, but you know JJ - calm in an emergency. Hotch is ... well, kid, he's Hotch."

"He's with Prentiss right now?"

Morgan nodded. "We're all spending the night here. Don't argue with that, kid. We wouldn't be leaving until the snow stops, anyway."

"What about -"

"Kid, you need to stop worrying." He settled back in the chair. "I'll wake you up in an hour."

--

Penelope Garcia was currently taking a detour.

JJ and she had been on their way to visit Rossi when the former woman had veered off of the path, asking to use the bathroom. They'd agreed to meet in ten minutes by Rossi's hospital room, which meant that the technical analyst only had eight minutes to get to the fourth floor of the hospital and back.

Because she wasn't going to be okay until she saw that all of her ducklings were. Considering that she and JJ were planning to stop by Reid after Rossi, that left her to visit Prentiss before she was convinced her family was safe. There was only a one person visit in the rooms, save for Rossi's - but as long as she simply saw her, things would be okay. They'd agreed to see Prentiss once things were cleared a bit more - once she wouldn't become too agitated by a lot of people, so this visit would have to remain in secret.

She checked the time on her chunky blue watch. Only seven more minutes now. She needed to meet JJ then.

She had a feeling about things, a good feeling that was a heavy part of the reason she was going to see Prentiss now. She didn't have to be a profiler to see these things, to percept. She only had to be human to see the strong connection between Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss.

The most recent incident had been when he'd run off to go visit her, but she'd noticed it as far back as when the team had come home from Cyrus' compound.

There was something there, but what it was and whether or not either of them saw it - that was something in and of itself.

She knew how much Hotch was hurting right now. It was undeniable, a fact of the matter, but she had no doubt he had the ability to recover from it, over time. Perhaps it was because she was an optimistic person, always finding the light in the darkness.

She stopped in front of the room with six minutes until she had to be back.

Yes, she'd been right.

They were resting - rather, Prentiss was. Though the wires and tubes were disconcerting, her friend's eyes were closed, even if she was not asleep. Hotch was leaning against the chair he was sitting in, and he was talking continuously. Garcia couldn't make out what he was saying, only that he was speaking. Once in awhile, the smallest of smiles graced Prentiss' features. Their hands were clasped.

Whether they knew it or not, there was something there.

* * *

_Author's Note: _

_My backspace button squeaks because my cat tried to pull it off of the keyboard. I just thought someone might enjoy that random fact of the day. This chapter was going to be yesterdays, instead, but it's today's now. Garcia's part obviously takes place when Hotch was telling Prentiss stories about Jack. I hope I did them all justice. Remember, this is how Garcia sees it - I wanted to do an 'outsiders' point of view, so to speak - someone who wasn't in the room. _

_So ... I hope that you enjoyed. I want to get some Morgan/Garcia in here sometime. If you want to discuss last night's episode ... PM me! I'd be more than happy to. _

_Okay, so here's the bad news part of today's discussion. _

_I hope, and I cross my fingers, that I will have a chapter up tomorrow. But, after Friday ... I can't say whether or not you'll see another chapter until Monday. Because the twenty eighth is my eighteenth birthday, my father decided on the spur of the moment that he would take me and my brother away this weekend ... and updates obviously depend on whether or not I'll have internet connection. Please, though, don't let this stop you from reviewing ... it would mean the world to me! I love hearing from you guys. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Stroke of Midnight**

Buzz. Buzz.

The ring of the phone startled the dark haired man moments after the nurse left for the second time. Emily was still recovering from that visit, the side of her face pressed angrily into the pillow. It wasn't hard to imagine that she didn't want to be there. Her mouth was pressed into a hard line, her hands clenched, as she tried not to make a sound.

It was a force of habit, not to show how weak she was, even after she'd blatantly told him she was afraid.

He'd been rubbing small circles into the heel of her hand, trying to make her forget (a futile attempt) when the phone rang.

He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, before removing his hand from hers and going for his phone.

It was Jessica.

Fear went immediately through his veins – had something happened to Jack? – before he realized why she was calling. He'd told her he'd be there by one in the morning, slightly later if it snowed.

It was two thirty in the morning.

He answered the phone hurriedly. "Jessica-"

"You're alright?" The woman on the other end of the phone asked.

"I'm fine." He answered, looking towards Prentiss. The dark haired woman had her eyes closed, but he hadn't the slightest if she was asleep or awake.

"What happened? Was it the snow? I thought you were in an accident."

Her words ran through him. "Not me." He answered solemnly. "But three of my agents were."

"Oh my … Aaron, are they alright?" He could hear the fear in her voice.

"They will be." He assured her. "Is Jack…"

"He's asleep. What should I tell him, when he wakes up?"

"When he wakes up, have him call me." He said. "I'll explain to him why I'm not home yet. I'll be home early afternoon today."

"Alright, I'll do that. Give them my regards. And Aaron – he's alright. Stop worrying."

He sighed, heavily. The phone call ended, and the profiler sat back down in the chair. A few moments passed before Prentiss spoke, the name a question. "Jessica?"

"Jack's alright. He's asleep." Hotch answered. "Jessica sends her regards."

She nodded at that, closing her eyes again. He was glad to see that her breathing was easier; the snow outside had ceased. She fell asleep with her head turned towards him, as if even asleep she knew that he was there.

Over the next few hours, they gained a sort of routine. Every hour, the nurse would come in – the same nurse, every time- to wake her up and check her breathing. Every time, he was the one to wake her up. Every time, she would groan irritably before consenting.

And, every time, he would stay while the nurse put her through the paces.

The third time, she cheerfully, sarcastically told him that a pitchfork wasn't enough. Together, they agreed that torches should be brought into the mix. Her smile during that moment was brilliant to see.

He was unaware of his own responding smile.

He held her hand, every single time.

By six in the morning, the roads had been cleared, making travel safe again – there was even sun by seven in the morning, shining down blindingly.

It was seven thirty in the morning when his phone rang a second time, and he reached for it immediately. He wasn't able to say a word before the small voice on the other end of the line called out.

"Daddy!" Jack exclaimed, and Hotch smiled. His son didn't sound panicked – that was a good thing.

"Hey, buddy."

"Aunt Jessica said I should call you when I woked up. Why are you not home yet, Daddy?"

Hotch tried to sound calm and rational when he began to explain, using a calming voice when he spoke. "Do you remember Miss Emily?" He asked the boy, and saw Prentiss turn her head to look at him.

"I remember." He said, sounding proud.

"Well, Miss Emily is sick and had to stay at the doctors. She needed a friend. You know how when your tummy hurts Daddy sits with you?"

"That _always_ makes me feel better. I miss you, Daddy."

"I know, buddy. I miss you too. I'll be home right after lunchtime, okay?" He asked, cringing in wait of his son's answer. It could go one of two ways. When he'd first come back to the job, Jack had panicked when he couldn't see his father – but now, it was getting better.

"What about Miss Em'ly? You said she was sick."

He could hardly believe just how perceptive his son was. "She'll be okay, buddy." He promised.

"Can I come over there and see her, Daddy? Then she'll have _two _friends. That will make her even _more_ good."

He drew a breath. That hadn't been something he'd been expecting. He looked towards Prentiss, whose eyes were on him as he spoke to his son. "Miss Emily is very tired, Jack." He tried to explain, but the boy had other ideas.

"I'll bring her presents!" He said. "We can make her room all pretty."

"Jack-" He began, but his son was insistent.

"Please, Daddy? I promise it'll make her feel all better. She'll be happy then."

He looked towards Prentiss. "How about I ask her, Jack." Much to his surprise, there was an amused look on Prentiss' face. He covered the end of the phone. "He wants to come over here." There was both a sigh and amusement in his eyes. "He wants to make you feel better." He said, almost repeating his son's exact words. "Jack's being pretty insistent about it."

A smile twitched the corners of her mouth. "If you want him to come, it's okay with me, Hotch."

**TBC**

_Author's Note: _

_Emily __**does**__ have a concrete reason for saying Jack could come by. It's a good one, too, I believe, and it will be revealed eventually. I'm glad that I managed to get this chapter out today – for awhile, I didn't think that I'd have the time to upload it. There _might_ be a chapter over the weekend, but I couldn't say for sure. _

_Oh, there's a poll up on my page, and this chapter is going out to my brother. Thanks for catering to my amusement yesterday and putting on all the random holiday songs I asked for while I cooked. You're awesome. _

_Please review – it'll mean the world to me. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Stroke of Midnight**

Though Emily Prentiss was all kinds of exhausted, she did not fall back asleep after Jack' phone call. She refused to, because she could see in Hotch's eyes that he thought this was a bad idea – that it would be too much for her.

She knew how much Hotch missed his son, that when they were away on a case he constantly feared for him.

And, Hotch hadn't been standing that far away from her when he'd answered the phone call. Somehow, she doubted that the Hotchner house had as many Christmas decorations as it normally did. If Jack wanted to decorate her hospital room … well, it might just bring a smile to his father's face as well.

It would also mean she could spend the smallest amount of time more with him, and at that moment, she was going to hold on to that.

After finishing plans with Haley's sister – she would drive Jack up and they would all drive back together, leaving the SUV for Morgan, JJ, and Garcia – he settled again in his chair by the side of her bed, his chin resting on his hand. Jack would be there within two hours. His eyelids had dropped, and, in the next instant, he'd been asleep.

She'd smiled at that. When the nurse came in fifteen minutes later, the two of them had shared a smile. She didn't wait for her to ask to cough – she'd ignored her instinct not to and done so, because she didn't want to wake him up.

She'd asked for an extra blanket and indicated the sleeping man next to her. "He's had a long week." She'd mouthed when the woman had come back and draped the blanket over Hotch's shoulders. "He's one of the good guys."

The woman had smiled. "How long have you been together?"

She'd felt her face flush a shade of red previously nonexistent. "Oh, no, we're not, uh –" She'd fought for some kind of explanation. "We're agents, from the FBI … he's a teammate?" She hadn't meant it to come out as a question.

_Great explanation, Emily_.

The nurse had raised her eyebrows and said nothing else but "He obviously cares a lot about you." before leaving again.

She'd settled her head back against the pillow, her heart pounding.

When Morgan came in a half hour later, Hotch was still asleep, and Prentiss was ready to start counting the ceiling tiles.

She made a hurried expression, nodding towards Hotch. Morgan looked towards the older agent with an amused half grin. "How long?" He kept his voice low.

"Forty five minutes?" She whispered back – it hurt more to whisper, but there wasn't a way she was going to chance waking him.

It was then that he produced a book expertly hidden behind his back, moving carefully around Hotch to come and sit on the foot of her bed, handing over the novel.

She took it with her left hand, and a genuine smile lit her face when she saw the title. "Slaughterhouse Five. You're a lifesaver." She told him, still whispering. "I'm sorry about all of this. You shouldn't still be in a hospital right now."

"Don't worry about it." He told her sincerely. "Just focus on getting better."

"Thanks." She said. "Jack's coming down with his Aunt."

"So I've heard." Morgan answered, indicating Hotch. "Little man wants to see you, huh?" Earlier, Hotch had called him – checking on Reid and letting him know what was going on. Reid had insisted he go and check on the rest of them, and it had landed him here.

"Hotch told him I was sick." She explained. "He didn't tell him about the accident, it'd be too much for him." Morgan nodded in agreement, noticing how exhausted she looked. She was fighting it with everything she had – blinking constantly, refusing to yawn, fighting back every wince and groan – but he wasn't in the BAU for being a fool.

"Get some rest, Prentiss." He advised, patting her good leg gently before standing. He shook his head after she shook hers. "It wasn't a question."

She took a deep breath for a sigh and winced visibly. "I'll try." She managed – nothing anywhere near close to a promise, but Morgan accepted it for what it was and left her and Hotch, still sleeping.

She didn't even attempt sleep, and when the nurse came back a half hour later, she was already partially through the book. She coughed for the nurse, her nails digging into her palms.

When the nurse left, it was an hour and a half since Hotch had spoken to Jack. Cursing herself for having to do it, she reached over and touched Hotch's knee. "Hotch." She said, and he was awake instantly, dark eyes focused on her. She thought it might have less to do with being an agent and more to do with being a dad.

"What's wrong?" He asked, sitting up straighter. "Are you alright?"

She smiled, softly. "I'm fine."

His eyes found the book by her side. Noticing his look, she answered the unspoken question. "Morgan."

"How long was I asleep?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, you needed it. Jack should be here in a half hour or so." She said, her explanation for having woken him. She watched as he removed the blanket, a curious expression in his eyes. "You were cold." She said, another explanation. She watched with the slightest amount of amusement in his eyes as he stood and folded the blanket on the back of the chair.

She'd been right. Having him here _was_ taking away some of the pain, in a way that simply reading a book could not. She didn't have an explanation for it, not one that made any sense. Because what she was feeling – safe, secure, among other things – she wasn't sure if she _should_ be feeling them. She'd never been one for those kinds of feelings, not since she was fifteen, the quick feeling of security she'd felt before everything had gone downhill.

He made a noise. "You should have woken me earlier." He looked at her for a moment. "How are you?"

She didn't want to dissuade him from allowing Jack in, or make him think it wasn't a good idea. It was, just probably not for her. "I'm alright." She lied. "Better than before." She didn't look down, didn't move – lying successfully to a profiler took skill. Hotch paused for a second, but seemed to believe her – at the very least allowed her to lie while knowing she wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Daddy!"

Neither had been looking in the direction of the door, so the voice of the young boy came as a surprise. Hotch turned to see Jack standing in the doorway, a smile plastered on his face. Behind him, Jessica Brooks stood, carrying bags in one hand. Her other hand was on Jack's shoulder.

"Hey, buddy!" Hotch said, reaching out his arm for Jack. The five year old ran to him, excitement written all over his face.

"I brought lots of stuff." He said, sitting on his father's knee. "Aunt Jess'ca has it." He pointed. As quickly as the boy's attention had been on the bags, it turned to Prentiss. "I'm here to make you feel better." He confirmed, squirming off of his father's knee and standing.. Hotch reached forward, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Jack, be careful. Emily doesn't feel good." Hotch reminded the five year old. Jessica had come closer, putting the bags down next to Hotch's chair.

"I know, Daddy. That's why I'm _here_." With the perceptiveness of someone far beyond his years, jack put his hand very gently on Prentiss' hair. Hotch had reached forward but stopped when he saw what his son was doing. "Do you like Christmas, Miss Em'ly?"

The boy's gentleness was endearing. "Of course I do." She assured him, playing along despite exhaustion. "Do _you_?"

"Yes!" He said, grinning. "I'm going to share with you. Sharing is good." He nodded. "Right, Daddy?"

"It is." He said, amazed at the five year old's behavior.

"Sharing makes people happy. You look sad." He paused, for a moment. "Why are you sick, Miss Em'ly?"

Prentiss paused, looking towards Hotch.

"She got sick while we were at work, buddy." He debated for a second – telling Jack about the car accident wasn't going to happen. Him realizing something ilke that might stop him from being willing to get into a car. "And she had to come here, so Daddy stayed with her."

Jessica touched his shoulder. "I'll be down in the café, Aaron." She winked at Jack, who gave her a thumbs up. The young child had spent the morning telling her about how he was going to make his Daddy's friend all better.

Jack patted Prentiss' hair again. "It's okay. I promise. When I get sick, Daddy always makes it better."

"Your Dad is very good at that." She agreed, and saw Hotch smile. "I bet you are, too."

He grinned. "You have to close your eyes, Miss Em'ly?"

"I have to close my eyes?" She asked, forgetting for the moment the ache in her leg, in her head. It seemed Jack had a similar affect – or, possibly, it was seeing the interaction between father and son.

"You have to close your eyes." He repeated. "And go asleep, okay? Else it won't work."

"What won't work, Jack?" Hotch asked, but Prentiss had already closed her eyes.

"I think I should listen, Hotch. He's a very smart boy." She said, then opened one eye and winked.

She could hear him tug Hotch to standing, and the rustling of bags. _"No peeking!_"

**TBC**

_Author's Note: _

_I still can't believe the __**amazing**__ response I got from Friday's chapter. Obviously, I didn't have the chance to reply to any. In fact, as I'm typing this, I'm not even home yet. It's Saturday night, and I'm sitting in the lobby of a dude ranch, writing this on paper. (Obviously, I'm typing it now, and it's … later the same night. I have internet!) I can't thank you guys enough for the reviews and birthday wishes. The country song on right now makes me think of Hotch. "I've been strong, and I've been weak, and I still miss you. I'd give anything for one more moment with you." Aww, sweet Haley/Hotch song. (now I have to find one for Prentiss…) _

_Anyway, I couldn't __**not**__ give you guys a huge long chapter with all of this no updates business. Besides, I have plenty of snow on my hands. Have I mentioned I might be snowed in? _

_Also, any questions with this chapter – yes, I couldn't wait to do this chapter. I've had this one in my head from the beginning. The next chapter has been planned almost before I wrote the first chapter of this story, and I can't wait to share it with you guys. I hope you'll enjoy it – I hope you enjoyed this one. _

_Please review? I'm snowed in, at a Dude ranch, and my family decided they wanted to embarrass me with balloons and singing during dinner. –gigantic sigh- _


	14. Chapter 14

**Stroke of Midnight**

TV Prompt: Boy Meets World: Santa's Little Helper

She'd done as the younger Hotchner had said: she'd closed her eyes, but had no intentions of going to sleep. Once her eyes were closed, however, she found it impossible to keep her mind from shutting down and sleep from taking over. Emily Prentiss was sleeping nearly before Jack had begun opening one of the small bags he'd brought with him.

Jack rummaged through the bag until he found what he wanted, and stood. In his hand, he struggled to hold a medium sized green wreath. "It's a … a…"

"A wreath." Hotch helped him, bending to take it from his son.

"It goes on her door." Jack said, remembering what his Aunt had said. Together, they'd found the decorations. Most of them had come from several unused boxes, but others had come from the local store.

Hotch moved to the door with the wreath in his hand, wondering where all of this had come from in Jack. He could have been home, playing – but when he'd mentioned Prentiss was sick, he'd wanted to come here – and he'd brought decorations to cheer her up. While the actual decorations were likely Jessica's doing, the idea had been the five year old's. The profiler hung the wreath on the door, only to turn and find Jack holding out a can of chicken soup.

"Buddy, you need a can opener for that." Hotch reminded him. Jack sighed for a moment, brow furrowed in frustration, before he turned and pulled something else out of the bag.

It was garland.

"Where should we put this?" Jack asked, bouncing. The excitement in his son's eyes was catching. He didn't think he'd be able to feel any of the season's spirits, but it was seeping in around the edges – not anything near even half of what he used to feel, but with that light in Jack's eyes, it was impossible not to feel something.

He wondered what Emily would think of all this when she woke up.

He moved to the foot of Prentiss' bed, and hung the garland carefully there. "How's that, Jack?"

"_Perfect._" The five year old enthused.

Jack reached for something else – more garland, Hotch realized as he handed it to him. "So, buddy, do you know where you and I are going tomorrow?" Hotch figured that this was a good time to tell the five year old about his Christmas surprise – close to Christmas enough so that he'd kept the surprise as long as he could.

"Where?" The boy's face lit up, curious. His face was lit with a smile that only little kids could truly grin – full of innocence and youth.

"Do you remember when you told me you wanted to see the big tree in New York?" Hotch asked, bending down to be eye level with his son. He ruffled Jack's hair, and Jack squirmed in response.

"Yeah?" Jack was bouncing now in anticipation, his eyes shining. Hotch didn't fail to notice, however, that Jack was being extremely quiet – possibly for Prentiss' sake.

"Well, what would you think if I said you and I could go into the city tomorrow and see the tree? Would you like that, Jack?"

There was nothing Hotch enjoyed more than seeing the boy's face light up as it did in that moment. In the past few weeks, there had been too much sadness in the air, not something that Hotch ever wanted to see on his son's face again, even though he knew it was unlikely that Jack would never be sad again, he still wished for it as every father did. The amount of grief that Jack had gone through, however – no little boy should have to go through it.

"We can go see the big tree? The one with all the lights?" Jack asked, his eyes wide. He looked like a little boy again, a child without worries, a layer of sadness wiped away.

"We sure can." Hotch replied, mouth twitching in a grin as his son's face filled with glee. "Are you happy?"

Jack was grinning, still. "I like the big tree. It's taller than …" He furrowed his brow, thinking with a hand on his chin, an imitation of a grown up. "… It's taller than _three_ of you, Daddy." He answered, and Hotch laughed.

"It is? We'll have to see that." He still remembered when Jack had seen it on the TV and asked where it was. Jessica had overheard, suggested going to see the tree later to him. At first, he'd been hesitant – he didn't feel up to it; but he remembered how excited his son had seemed while watching the lights, how happy he'd been, and he hadn't really had another option. "Do you want to help me finish decorating the room?"

Jack nodded, and raced back to the bag, producing a plastic elf. "It's the last one." He handed it to Hotch, who put it carefully on the bedside table. The elf sat there, looking back at him with a grin.

"Daddy?"

Jack's voice was quieter than it had been a moment ago, and there was a curious, questioning edge to it. Hotch turned and bent down in front of Jack again. "Yeah, Jack?"

"Why is she so sad?"

The question caught him off guard, but he answered swiftly enough. "She's just tired, that's all. You know how you feel when you're sick, right?" Jack nodded, once. "She's not happy because she's sick."

"That's why we're here, right?" Jack asked, and Hotch nodded. Jack's face scrunched up in a serious way before he took a breath and said, "Can we bring her with us?"

The five year old's question confused Hotch. "Bring her where, Jack?"

"To the tree!" Jack enthused. "The big one. It'll make her happy."

"Jack…" Hotch knew there wasn't an easy way to tell the boy she couldn't come along. "Jack, she's sick. She can't leave the hospital."

"But we're going _tomorrow_. Maybe she'll be better then."

"She's not going to be better for awhile, Jack." Hotch regretted having to tell his son that, because he could see the boy's face fall considerably.

"Are you sure?"

Hotch smiled a little. "I'm sure, Jack. But we'll have fun, I promise."

Jack moved forward, reaching out to wrap his arms around his Dad's neck. Hotch picked him up and stood, noticing Jack's sudden exhaustion and wondering if it had come from his sudden disappointment. Jack buried his face in the side of Hotch's neck as he sat back down in the chair next to her bed.

They were still that way when she woke up.

_Author's Note: _

_I'm so glad I got this chapter out. I've been waiting to do this chapter for a very long time: it was the chapter that spawned the entire story. _

_In some sort of __**dismal**__ karma, it now officially hurts for me to breathe. (This was due to me horseback riding for the first time in over a year.) As I'm writing this, I'm in the car, and we're driving home from the dude ranch. (Again, obviously, I'm now typing this, and at home. We made it home, safely.) Some of you may have missed yesterday's chapter, because the site alerts failed in a major way, so I suggest reading that one first, as its important to understand this one. _

_My town got a foot and a half of snow, and I've got off from school. I'm going to spend it doing my research paper. Oh, joy of joys. Please review and save my sanity. _

_Update: I'm nearly done with the research paper, and I'm assuming the remaining aspects of it will be done tomorrow. I'm currently waiting for an email from my teacher. This chapter goes out to my brother, who put up with me today, and Agni, because she knows why. _

_Long author's note, I know, but I had to answer a few things: _

_If you didn't get a review response, I was doing my paper, and I apologize for that. I'm going to try and respond to all of them for this chapter, though. _

_There have been some questions asked. The first was the note of Jessica's rudeness – it wasn't intended. It slipped my mind, but she'll make up for it. I promise. Another is that Jack is calling Emily "Miss" Emily instead of "Aunt" Emily. Again, please remember the part about my brain taking a vacation in panama._

_Again, your reviews plus me equal my sanity slightly saved. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Stroke of Midnight**

In opening her eyes, she blinked hazily as both father and son came into focus. The latter had his arms wrapped around the former's neck, his face buried there. One of Hotch's arms was wrapped protectively around the young boy's middle, holding him there securely. Noticing she'd woken up, he smiled gently.

"Hey, Jack, look who's awake."

Jack turned his head, his eyes lighting up again when he saw his Dad's friend was awake. "Hi, Miss Em'ly." He scampered down off of his father's lap, and moved to stand next to her side. "Do you like your room?"

It was only then that she noticed it: the wreath on the open hospital room door, the garland scattered around her room … the elf sitting on the bedside table, and a can of soup sitting on the floor. "Oh, Jack, I love it." She exclaimed, happy to see the boy's face light up. She didn't know why, but he'd appeared sad a moment ago. "How'd you do all this?"

"Daddy." Jack answered. "But Aunt Jess'ca got the …. The decrations." He said, stumbling over the final word. "We made it be Christmas in your room." He sounded proud.

"This definitely makes me feel better." She assured him, and it wasn't a lie. Something about it – whether it be the decorations or simply the young boy's spirit, she wasn't sure.

Jack's face was intent. "Can you do me a favor, Miss Em'ly?" He sounded so adult, so much like his father.

"I can try, Jack."

He took a breath, sighing very seriously. "It's … imp… impro…"

"Important?" She helped, noticing Hotch's mouth twitch in a smile.

"It's _very important_." He nodded. "Can you be all better by tomorrow?"

"Jack-" Hotch began, but Prentiss interrupted him.

"I can't get better by tomorrow, Jack." She hated saying it, because there'd been so much hope in his eyes when he'd asked her. "But your surprise did make me feel better."

"Oh." He looked down at his hands, his chin jutted. "s'not fair, Miss Em'ly."

She looked at Hotch in question, who shook his head. The man looked exhausted. "Jack, she can't come with us to New York tomorrow. But we're going to have a fun time together, I promise."

She understood then, and the sentiment was endearing. "I've got an idea, Jack." She offered suddenly, watching as the boy turned back to her, renewed hope in his eyes.

"You do?" He asked, tilting his head to one side.

"You can take _lots _of pictures tomorrow, and when you get back, you can show me. How does that sound?" She hoped that would pacify him; she could see his brow furrowed in thought.

"Okay." He said, finally, and then turned back to his Dad. "We need a camera."

Hotch ruffled his hair, sending Emily a silent thank you with his eyes. _Crisis averted_. "I'll bring one."

"Don't forget." Jack said, very seriously, before turning back to Prentiss as Jessica entered the room, two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed one of them to Hotch.

"I thought you could use this, Aaron." She said, before looking towards Prentiss. "How are you?"

"I'm … alright." There was plenty she could say, plenty of words hiding beneath the surface, but for Jack's sake, those were the two words she spoke. "This little guy here helped quite a bit."

"You _did_?" Jessica asked Jack, bending down in front of him. "How's that?"

"I made it Christmas." He answered, and Prentiss couldn't help but grin as Jessica scooped up the young boy.

Hotch turned to her, concern in his eyes. He'd barely had the chance to speak before she started to talk. "Go, Hotch. I'll be fine."

He hesitated. "Are you sure?" He couldn't forget the way she'd looked every time the nurse had come in, couldn't help but worry about how she'd be when she was alone. "I can get someone to come stay with you."

She took a breath and steeled her eyes. "_Go_. It's Christmas Eve. Say hello to Santa for me."

"If you need anything-"

"I'll be fine."

It didn't matter how much she wished he could stay – it was selfish, and she knew it, and it was Christmas Eve. She wasn't going to make any of them stay here with her. She didn't need them to, she told herself. She'd be alright on her own and they could enjoy their Christmases.

And, if she had to, she would spend it alone.

_Author's Note: _

_I know that the end was depressing. I'm sorry – I promise that it will get better. In fact, Rossi is going to escape from his room next chapter. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. No, I don't know where that came from. _

_I hope that you enjoyed it … please review? Yes? Yes. _

_And, to all who want to know … yes, research paper = done. Except for editing._

_And, this one's dedicated to meenee, who knows why. _


	16. Chapter 16

**Stroke of Midnight **

"Come on, kid."

Spencer Reid raised his eyes to find the figure of David Rossi sitting in his doorway. The senior profiler was in a wheelchair blocking the entrance to his hospital room. It was to Reid's intense when the man stood, turned to look behind him, and then pulled the chair through the door and closed the door behind him.

"Rossi? What are you doing?" Reid asked, confused. From all that he knew, Rossi had a minor concussion and a broken wrist – and wasn't released from the hospital yet. "How did you get out of your room?"

"I'm here to save Christmas." He moved the wheelchair next to Reid's bed.

"Oh, God." Reid half groaned and half squeaked, letting his head fall back to the pillow. He could only imagine what Rossi was thinking, or planning – the man was stubborn as an ox. Once he got an idea into his head, he wasn't one to let that idea go. _This isn't going to end up in any good direction_.

"And the nurses left this damn wheelchair by my bed. Harry Houdini worthy escape. We're going to go see Prentiss."

"You're going to get us killed." Reid said, simply. He squeezed his eyes shut. "The nurses are going to come back for us and send out BOLOS, Rossi." He couldn't believe his co-worker was doing this. "Not to mention that Morgan, Hotch, and JJ will skin us alive if – wait, not if, _when_- they find out." He spoke quickly – a typical Reid way of saying that whatever they were about to do went against his better judgment.

Three hours had passed since Hotch, Jack, and Jessica had left to return home. Only a half hour after that, the rest of the BAU had left as well, returning home to waiting families for a slightly delayed Christmas Eve.

"Rossi-"

"Do you want her to spend Christmas Eve alone?"

That quickly shut Reid up.

"That's what I thought, kiddo."

--

When he was gone, things were different. Time moved differently. When he'd been there, it had been easier. Time had slipped by; she'd felt secure. She still didn't know why, exactly, that was. It had simply been easier. Now that he was gone – that she was alone – time was slower. Painful. And no matter how much she tried to distract herself, she found that she couldn't. She didn't remember the words she read.

It scared her, but she no longer wished to be so independent. Had it really taken a bonk on the head, a near death experience, for her to realize that? For her to realize who she saw as so safe, secure? To feel that _need_ the like of which she'd never before felt?

It seemed very likely to her that it had.

She didn't have much of a choice in the matter: she was going to be in the hospital for awhile ,and it was the holidays. Another time, she might have called her mother – but Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss was away on an assignment, and there was no way she was going to bother her. She didn't need to worry about her: she could take care of herself.

Whether or not she _wanted_ a certain person there at the moment was another matter entirely. And that someone had more on his plate to deal with than visiting her in the hospital: like making sure his son was happy and smiling this Christmas, because he deserved that.

She amused herself with the thought of Hotch and Jack on ice skates.

"Someone's smiling."

Shocked, she looked towards the door, feeling color flood to her face. She hadn't expected anybody to visit; she certainly hadn't been expecting David Rossi. For all she knew, he hadn't been released from the hospital yet – and yet, not only was he standing in her doorway, but Reid was there as well, sitting in a wheelchair.

"You shouldn't be here." She said, placing down the book on the bedside table and viewing the two of them. She could see immediately from Reid's eyes that he'd been forced here. "Neither of you should."

"Try telling him that, Prentiss." Reid muttered, and she couldn't help but grin.

"Someone decorated your room." Rossi acknowledged, wheeling Reid further in before closing the door behind them.

"Jack." She answered, smiling as she remembered. "It was his idea, too."

"We don't have much time before we get kicked out of here. When's the last time your nurse came by?" Rossi asked. Reid's chin rested on his fist.

She had to think back on it. "She comes every two hours now. We've got about that much time. Why are you here, again?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as she viewed them. She couldn't think of a possible reason of why they'd suddenly upped and come to her hospital room.

"We're saving Christmas, apparently." Reid answered, but he couldn't help but smile when he said it.

Rossi grinned. "You didn't think we'd let you be alone on Christmas, did you?"

_Author's Note: _

_This was, I hope, a lighter-hearted chapter than the rest of them, but I'm telling you now that it won't be that way for long. Also, it's worked out so that you'll actually get the chapter about Hotch's Christmas Eve _on_ Christmas Eve. That chapter will, obviously, come tomorrow. _

_On that note, I am now officially on break. But that doesn't mean my teacher didn't assign us three papers and a novel to read over the measly week we don't have school. It's like … -makes frustrated face-. Oh well, at least I finished the research paper. And considering I didn't think I'd get this chapter out today … yeah. _

_About the escapade … Rossi only had a minor concussion, so he'd be alright to escape. I know Reid's probably still a bit … concussed … but he'll be fine, I promise. His escapade didn't harm him a bit. (Unless you count pride. I don't think he enjoyed being pushed to Prentiss's room in a wheelchair pushed by Rossi.)_

_This chapter's for you. Yes, _you_. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Stroke of Midnight **

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night." Hotch whispered the last words of the story book he was reading to Jack, sitting on the end of the five-year-olds bed. Jack was curled underneath the blankets, his arm wrapped around a stuffed bear and his thumb stuck in his mouth. He'd only started that habit recently – right after his mother had died. It wasn't the most worrying of habits, but it did alert his father to the underlying cause of it. The dark haired man tucked the blanket up to the boy's chin and leaned over to place a kiss on his son's blonde hair. "Good night, buddy." He whispered.

Hotch made his way to the doorway, the book under one arm. He closed the light, still looking back behind him to be sure that his son was still asleep. Just as the door was nearly closed, he heard the slightest noise and paused in his movements.

"Daddy?"

Slowly, Hotch turned back on the light and re-entered the room. "Hey, Jack." He said softly, bending down by the side of the bed. Jack was sitting up, the blankets wrapped around him, and he rubbed at his eyes.

"I have a question." He said, still rubbing at his eyes.

"I'll try to answer the best I can, Jack." Hotch said, balancing on his heels. After leaving the hospital with Jessica, they'd made it back to their house in under an hour. The five year old had spent the day watching movies – both ones with his mother and Christmas movies. The former had been hard to watch for Hotch, but he'd done so because his son had wanted to. The young boy had been curled up on his father's lap watching the movies. Together, the three of them had eaten a modest holiday dinner and Jack had grown tired quickly. After his father had read him a few holiday stories, Jack had begun to fall asleep, only to wake up when he'd tried to leave the room.

"How does Santa get to _all_ the houses?" He asked, his hands in his lap now. "Does he go to all the houses? That takes a lot of time."

Hotch smiled, reaching up to ruffle the boy's hair. "Santa works with magic, buddy. He can get to all the houses in just one night."

"Are you sure?" Jack scrunched up his face. "There's lots of people. Are you _sure_ he'll come _here_?"

Hotch tried not to laugh – his son was being completely serious. "I'm sure, Jack. But you've got to go to sleep for Santa to come, alright?"

Jack immediately lay back down, curling up underneath the blankets. "I'll go asleep. I promise!" Hotch tickled his son's stomach and the boy giggled, the picture of innocence. That image was shattered with the boy's next question – stopping any chance of Hotch believing his son had never seen the evils of the world. "Daddy, Santa's a good guy, right?"

Hotch's breath nearly caught in his throat, but he responded quickly. "Santa's a very good guy, Jack. I promise you." Jack nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. The trust in his eyes was complete.

"Can you leave the light on just a little?" Jack asked, and his Dad nodded. "Okay. Then I need to go asleep, Daddy! You too, or Santa won't come!"

Hotch stood after placing one more kiss on Jack's hair, leaving the lights on dimly. That was something that had been happening on and off – Jack wanting the lights to remain on when he went to sleep. At least it had progressed to them just being dimmed – and the nightlight in the corner had been used before everything had happened. It was going to be a long road, Hotch knew – for both of them.

He turned back before closing the door, to see Jack's eyes shut and a smile on his face. Perhaps, that was the greatest Christmas present of all.

_Author's Note: _

_Thank you for the great response of the last chapter; it was epic. I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying the story: and of course I wasn't going to leave Emily alone on Christmas Eve! I'm not that cold-hearted. Even if it's not Hotch that she was with on Christmas Eve, Rossi and Reid were as good as she could get. I know this was a shorter chapter, but I couldn't think of a better place to end it. _

_Merry Christmas Eve, everybody! The Christmas Eve chapter being up on Christmas Eve makes me quite glad. I can't wait for the next chapter: Christmas morning should be a fun one – and, yes, meenee, that's why. –grin- But you'll all just have to wait until tomorrow to find out. My lips are sealed. Tehe. Again, this was a lighter hearted chapter – but hey, it's Christmas Eve, and though Jack is sad and all, I think there's still a lot more lighter moments in this. _

_I wish you and your families a very merry and safe holiday! If I could give you all a present, I would. Because you're all awesome for reading and reviewing this story. _


	18. Chapter 18

**Stroke of Midnight**

"Daddy! Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Santa did come, just like you said!" The voice of Jack Hotchner pushed through the darkness of sleep, cutting through the fogginess in Hotch's mind.

The young boy was pushing at his shoulder, and then his small, warm hands were patting his face. Aaron Hotchner opened his eyes wearily as his son slowly came into focus. The blonde haired child was looming over him, his cherub's face bright and eager. Jack's eyes were shining and he was constantly moving. At the moment, he was bouncing up and down on his father's bed, shoving at his Dad's arms.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" He said repetitively, his eyes shining. There was excitement in his movements, a kind of joy that Hotch hadn't seen in awhile. "Daddy, there's _presents_. For you, too, Daddy! Santa left you presents!"

"Santa left _me_ presents?" Hotch teased, smiling as his son nodded excitedly. Hotch's eyes darted to the clock – the green LED numbers only read seven thirty in the morning; Hotch wondered how Jack had managed to wait that long.

"You musta been _really_ good, Daddy! C'mon!" He tugged at his father's pajama covered arm one more time before running out of the bedroom, back towards the living room where a Christmas tree with presents underneath sat.

He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face – was it really Christmas morning already? His mind floated back to the hospital of the day before, wondering – but it was too early to call her and ask how she was, and she'd probably just tell him that she was fine even if she wasn't. He'd call later, wish her a Merry Christmas – just not yet, let her sleep for some time first.

He made his way into the kitchen. Jessica was sitting at one of the kitchen chairs, facing the living room where Jack was sitting impatiently in front of the tree. She handed a cup of coffee to him with a "Merry Christmas, Aaron."

"Merry Christmas, Jessica." He said, taking the warm cup in his hand. The warmth transferred through his body as he moved to the couch adjacent to the tree. She followed him, sitting on the arm of the armchair in the room.

"Daddy! Let's open gifts! This one's for _you_." Jack handed over a present with shining eyes, and Hotch took it in his hand. The pair of them would be leaving around nine that morning for New York City, hoped to arrive around one in the evening – parking would be a nightmare, but he'd also booked a hotel – they'd be staying over in New York City that night, another surprise for Jack.

With his son watching, he opened the gift – there was no card on the front, but he knew from the wrapping that it had come from Dave. JJ had dropped off presents from the team for him and Jack earlier the previous day, and though he'd given her a look that simply meant _'you didn't'_, she'd just smiled, given Jack a hug, and left to go back to her hometown of North Mammon for Christmas.

He shook his head bemusedly in opening the bottle of wine – a holiday tradition between him and Dave that'd been going on for what seemed like centuries. Same wine, every Christmas. The little bit of familiarity in this strange new sort of holiday was comforting, to say the very least.

"My turn!" Jack said, and then pulled out a gift from below the tree. "It's from you, Daddy!" He quickly tore into the wrapping, and Hotch leaned forward, watching his son. Jack pulled out of the wrapping this year's edition of the Hess truck. "A truck!" He exclaimed, turning over the box. "Cool!" Hotch was hoping that this – Hess trucks – would be a new tradition he could share with his son. "Here, Daddy – one for you!"

Hotch took the offered present, opening it while his son watched. This one did have a card on top – it was from Jareau. There was a package of his favorite coffee inside, and Hotch smiled at the gift.

"What'd you get, Daddy?" Jack stood by his knee, another gift clutched in his hand – this one was from the team as a whole, for Jack – a giant teddy bear. He could hardly carry it; half of the bear dragged behind him. The caramel colored bear wore a Santa hat. Hotch held up the bag of coffee for his son to see; the boy made a face. "Coffee's icky." Hotch chuckled.

After several more presents – a bunch of picture books for Jack; a couple of lengthy novels for Hotch from Reid, champagne from Morgan, and a superman bobble head from Penelope Garcia. He couldn't hide his amusement at that one, even if he couldn't quite appreciate the comparison he knew she was making at the moment.

By eight thirty, he was helping Jack put on his coat – there were suitcases in the car, and Jack had several of his picture books in his backpack, along with a small stuffed bear – and the boy was bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. There was something different in his eyes now, Hotch couldn't help but notice. Something was different from the time when he'd been opening presents and when he'd started getting ready to go to the city.

And then he stopped. Little Jack Hotchner refused to move out of the door. Dreading what this could be, Hotch turned back to look towards his son, bending down to get to his level. The young Hotchner's coat poofed out and there was a woolen hat on his head. "What's the matter, Jack?" He asked, touching his son's chin.

Jack scrunched up his forehead. "When does the big tree go away?"

Hotch smiled. "We'll have plenty of time to see it, Jack."

Jack shook his head, biting his lip. "When do they make it leave?"

"It'll be up for another week or so, Jack." If he thought about it, he was pretty sure that they took down the tree by January 7th. "We're not going to miss it, I promise."

His lip trembled, and Hotch's heart stopped. "She will."

His breath caught in his throat. "Jack-" He'd thought that Jack had been finally beginning to understand, but this moment put doubts in his mind again.

"She's not gonna go, 'cause we're not taking her."

_Emily_. Jack was talking about Emily.

"Jack, she said we should take pictures, remember?"

He shook his head. "It's not the _same_. I wanna make her happy."

"You did, Jack. Remember how happy she was?"

He shook his head again. "It's _Christmas_. We should _wait_. That's the right thing to do, Daddy. She wants to go. I know it." His brow was furrowed.

"Jack, are you sure?" He couldn't believe he was even considering it – but bringing Jack to the city was a big event, and if he was going to be upset the entire time, that wasn't going to be the best of circumstances. He was sure that once they were there, Jack would be fine, at least about the thought of Emily being upset – but what if he wasn't? He didn't want the trip clouded by Jack's sadness, because he knew well enough that one sad moment could lead Jack to another, and he might start to become upset about Haley again.

And, the thought of bringing Emily to NYC was … well, he didn't exactly know what it was. But it didn't bother him. In fact, he liked the idea. He thought about it – she'd be out of the hospital by then, and if they took it easily … "Do you want to do that, Jack?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I wanna make 'er happy, Daddy."

**TBC**

_Author's Note: _

_Now, I want to explain Jack to everyone for a moment – I know some people are probably going to think that a little kid would never do this, but Jack seems to have this perceptiveness that a lot of kids don't have to the level that he does. Once he got the idea in his head of making one of his Daddy's friends happy in this way, I don't think that he'd let it go this easily. _

_And yes, yes you __**will**__ be getting to see this trip. Now, this chapter – major shout outs to meenee, because she figured this out during the chapter with Jack decorating Prentiss' room. And that was epic. And she's also an amazing author, and you should go read her stories. There's another shoutout in this chapter to Kavi_Leighanna – if you haven't read her stories yet, go do so. Her story __His Christmas Wish__ is not only amazing, it's EPIC. And it's completed as of today, so no more waiting for you guys if you should go read that. And she's going to continue it to New Years. Which is beyond amazing. _

_Merry Christmas, guys. _


	19. Chapter 19

**Stroke of Midnight**

Emily Prentiss opened her eyes at nearly nine on Christmas morning, attempting to adjust to the cold light coming in from the hallway through the slated blinds of the windows. She squeezed her eyes shut one more time before opening them again. The three hours of sleep she'd gotten from six to nine this morning was the most she'd gotten since the accident – and, if she was being honest with herself, it was the most sleep she'd gotten at one time during the entire case in Washington D.C.

The nurses had still come throughout the night, but they hadn't come as frequently as they had during the first. She was thankful for that, though she was still in pain – and now, her muscles were starting to feel sore as well, the after effects of being in a car accident as well as the injuries she'd obtained from it. There was no chance, though, that she was going to press that call button for a nurse and ask for drugs. It didn't matter if there wasn't anybody there at the moment – she didn't want to go back into a haze. She'd had enough of being half-awake for the next decade. She would tough it out, like she always did.

Memories from the night before – Christmas Eve – came back to mind. After escaping from their respective hospital rooms, David Rossi and Spencer Reid had stayed in her hospital room for upwards of two hours. Mostly, they hadn't done anything – they'd talked, for awhile. It was strange, how even on Christmas Eve, they talked of criminals, as if they didn't really know how to talk about anything else. When that topic had run out and it had grown difficult for her to talk, they'd flipped on the TV and changed channels for awhile. They'd talked about whatever came to mind, after that – and, in Reid's case, she'd learned more useless facts than she'd ever need to know in her entire life, but that hadn't been the point.

It hadn't really been about what they'd done, for her. It was just the fact that they'd bothered to show up. That the three of them had stuck together on Christmas Eve – at least, until the nurse had come in and, after many questions of how they'd managed to escape from their hospital rooms, kicked them out.

She'd felt a little bit better, after they'd been there.

Her head hurt. Her leg hurt. Her chest hurt. Generally, she just hurt. With a sigh that caused pain to flare in her rib, she lifted the book from the side table and flipped open to the last place she'd left off. She found, however, that she was thinking of what they'd be doing right now – Aaron and Jack. Were they already in the city? Probably not – they were probably on the road. She felt a shudder go through her spine before reminding herself that he was a safe driver, and that it was no longer snowing.

Her mind must have drifted more than she'd realized, because when she looked up, there was a nurse standing there. It wasn't the same woman as before – they must have changed shifts. This nurse was red-headed, and shorter.

"Miss Prentiss." She said. "How are you?"

She blinked. "I'm … alright." She lied carefully, but the woman didn't take that for an answer.

"I've heard that before." The red head changed an IV bag. "How are you really feeling?"

The dark haired profiler rolled her eyes and sighed. "Like I was in a car crash." She responded bitterly, lifting her eyebrows.

"Do you feel up to a visitor?"

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. "You tell David Rossi or Spencer Reid that if they don't get back and get themselves some rest, I'm going to make them miserable."

The nurse looked honestly confused for a moment. "I don't … no, those were the patients who came in with you, yes?" She furrowed her brow. "I've got an Aaron Hotchner outside, asking to see you."

_Author's Note: _

_I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in a few days. I got caught up in some original work that I was writing and pretty much got sucked in. Once I managed to drag myself out of that, I began to write this chapter again. Yes, again. Because no matter how many times I wrote this chapter, I did not like it. And so I had to re-write it, quite a few times. 'quite a few' being the understatement of the year. I'm not too sure that I'm happy with the outcome – but then again, when am I ever really happy with a chapter? _

_I got this really nifty thing called "neo" by a company called "alphasmart" for my birthday. I'm writing this chapter on it, and then transferring it to my laptop. It's so cool – it's this nifty little keyboard with a screen and it's portable and totally helping me to write. In fact, I'm pretty sure I wrote nearly five thousand words today of something that WASN'T fanfiction (it's an original detective mystery that I'm attempting to write), so that's pretty cool. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, as always. _

_And, since you reviewed anonymously, I couldn't send you a review reply (not that, I, uh, got around to those this chapter), so thank you, Becky – now you're in an author's note. Lookatthat. _

_This is a really long author's note, so it's going to end now. _

_(And, yes, to all who said it – Jack /is/ the most adorable tv five year old out there.) _

_Also, I'm sorry, again, that this chapter was pretty short – but I wanted to get it out to you guys and I promise there's a few huge chapters coming up. I'm glad that you're still enjoying this. _


	20. Chapter 20

**Stroke of Midnight **

"Hotch?" There was a considerable amount of surprise in the woman's voice. "What are you doing here?" The hospital was an hour from his home and not in the direction of New York City. "You're supposed to be-"

"Miss Em'ly!"

The shout came from behind Hotch, who stepped aside to let the young boy dart past. She hadn't noticed Jack standing behind Hotch in the doorway. Jessica was with them. The five year old's eyes were bright and excited and his motions were exaggerated. Jack was nearly bouncing when he stopped by the side of her bed. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, too." She said with a grin. Emily was instantly glad she'd made the decision to sit up a bit further in the hospital bed today. Her dark eyes drifted to Hotch in question, but he shook his head as he smiled and looked towards his son.

"You can thank this little guy." Hotch indicated Jack with a nod of his head and Jessica laughed.

Hotch's son shook his head, placing his hands on his hips and turning to face his father. "Daddy! I am not little. I'm big." Prentiss couldn't help but grin at that.

"True, Aaron. He's a big boy." Jessica said.

"You can thank this big guy here." Hotch amended with a twitch of his lips.

"Merry Christmas, Emily." Jessica said.

"Merry Christmas, Jessica."

She tilted her head in question of Hotch. What had happened of their plans to go to the city?

"Jack here didn't want to go to the city this morning." Hotch began as if he were reading her thoughts. Jack, however, interrupted him with a giant sigh.

"Daddy. You're tellin' it wrong!"

Hotch tried not to laugh. "I am?" He questioned.

"Lemme tell it." The five year old took a deep breath and let it out slowly in preparation for telling his version of the story. "The big tree's not leavin' yet." Hotch sat and pulled Jack into his lap. It didn't interrupt the child's talking. "And you're sad still. So we're gonna wait for you. And then we'll go." His smiled wide, proud of his story.

Her eyes flickered to Hotch. "Your Daddy's okay with that?"

"I am." Hotch answered, though he wasn't quite sure yet what he was. It had taken a lot for him to get up the courage to bring himself to NYC – taking Emily would have several bumps along the way. Not that he didn't want her there – because he did. But he knew without a doubt that it wouldn't be easy.

"Your decorations are here!" He said, finally getting the word right. His smile was wide as he took in the sight of her still-decorated room.

"Yeah, bud. You put them up, remember?" Emily shifted uncomfortably with a hope that Hotch hadn't noticed.

"I 'member." The young boy answered.

Hotch bounced Jack on his knee, watchful eyes on Emily. "Hey buddy, I think Uncle Rossi would like to see you. Why don't you go with Aunt Jessica and wish him a Merry Christmas?"

"Yeah, bud, I'll go take you to see him." The blonde haired woman spoke from the plastic hospital chair. She sent Emily a smile, who returned it. Jack jumped off of his father's lap and went towards Jessica, who picked the five year old up in her arms.

Jessica smiled, raising her eyebrows at Hotch. 'Call when you're ready' she mouthed, to which he nodded once.

"Alright, Jack, let's go spread some Christmas cheer." She exited with Jack in his arms. She was handling the holiday season better than Aaron. Perhaps it was because she understood – she understood what it meant to move on, to try and continue because of what her sister had done for Jack. She knew that Aaron was trying to understand, but it was going to take him more time than it took her. He saw too much evil to understand it so quickly.

He was too hurt to understand it so quickly. But she was sure now that Emily Prentiss was helping him understand. She was helping him heal.

He turned to her then, placing a careful hand on the shoulder she'd dislocated in the accident. He hadn't failed to notice her discomfort earlier. It was to be expected, but it still bothered him that it was there at all.

"Why?" She didn't answer him; her own discomfort was old news by now. The dark haired profiler was still unsure. Her eyes rested on Hotch. Though she was sitting up further in the bed than she had been the last time he'd been there, she still leaned her head against the pillow.

He noticed that she looked stronger today than she had on Christmas Eve. She wasn't as pale as she had been then, and she was sitting up further. She didn't look as exhausted as she had, either – she appeared tired, but as if she'd gotten at least some sleep. That didn't mean she didn't look pained, but it was either less or she was doing a better job of hiding it from him.

"Why didn't we go to New York?" He was leaning forward slightly in his chair with his arms resting on his knees.

Emily nodded and attempted to hide a wince at the moment, something not lost on Aaron.

"We were almost out the door." He began. "Jack was upset when we were leaving. He still didn't understand why we couldn't bring you with us."

She thought back to the past few weeks. There'd been days when Aaron had brought Jack to work with him – on the days when they'd been doing nothing but paperwork, and they'd all pitched in on watching and entertaining the five year old. Reid, though awkward at first, had finally found his way to Jack's heart with pyshics magic. All three of the woman had paid extra attention to him, but Jack had attached himself to Emily. She didn't quite understand why, but if Jack wanted to hang on to her, she wasn't going to argue.

But now, she instantly felt guilty. Had something she done caused him to be upset when she couldn't go with them?

"I'm sorry." Prentiss grimaced. "I should have explaind better, something-"

"Emily, it's alright. I don't mind you coming along," He said with a pause that she started analyzing quickly. "Especially if Jack wants you there. It's not a problem." His voice sounded assuring. "Jack wants to bring you to New York City."

"Jack wants to bring me to New York." She repeated while trying not to let it sound like a question. "Aaron, I might not be out of the hospital in time." She thought back to the morning. "What if I'm not out of the hospital by the seventh?" She let out a shuddering breath. "They're releasing me on the third but Hotch – if I'm still here, promise you'll take him to the city. He can't not go to the city. Not because of me." She clenched her jaw and grimaced at the longer sentence.

Hotch sighed and squeezed her shoulder. "We'll get to the city." He promised.

She looked at him for a moment with profiler's eyes, attempting to decipher whether he was sincere or not. When she was satisfied, she nodded. Worry crossed her eyes for a moment before she said, "I'll be in a wheelchair."

"I know how to work one of those." His mouth twitched in a smile; one of her own quickly followed.

"Rossi and Reid pulled Houdinis last night." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the memory. "Until the nurse kicked them out."

There was another smile at the mental image of that. "They didn't." He was pleased to see that she was smiling again.

"Oh, they did." Prentiss furrowed her brow for a moment before saying, "I had something for you." She knew that each of the team had brought something for him – they usually exchanged presents every year – and had chipped in for something for Jack as well – but JJ had dropped off the presents to Hotch and hers hadn't been among them. It was still at her apartment. She'd gone to extra lengths this year.

"I'm sorry?" He questioned, unsure of what she meant.

"For Christmas." She explained with a sigh. "But it's at my apartment."

"Jack intends to buy everyone a gift when were in the city." Hotch explained with another smile. "We'll exchange gifts then."

Her heart quickened at the thought that he had a present for her as well. She hadn't been expecting that. Not this year – she'd been surprised at his willingness to bring Jack to the city in the first place. She knew without a doubt that Jack's wanting to bring her – whatever that meant – had to only be making it harder. "That sounds like a plan. Thank you, Aaron."

"For?" He asked, perplexed.

"Showing up on Christmas." She answered.

"It was Jack's-"

"Jack's idea, I know." She shifted on the pillow. "But you didn't have to show up on Christmas either way. I'm glad you did."

"I am, too."

_Author's Note: _

_Hey, guys. I'm so sorry that I haven't been updating. I've had severe writer's block with this chapter and only finally managed to get past it. I'm still not sure about this chapter, but I've obviously put it up anyway. I hope you're still reading. Anyway, I have a couple of things to say in this author's note, so let me begin. _

_First – as of today, the nominations for the 2009 Criminal Minds FanFiction awards begin. There's a link on my page to the livejournal community. You're allowed to nominate stories from here as well as livejournal, so go nominate your favorite author's. It's a great way to show your appreciation and – once voting begins – find new favorite stories. I'll definitely be nominating some of my favorites. It's a great way to participate in the fandom and there are many categories – favorite author, favorite oneshot, favorite character, favorite in progress … over twenty five categories! _

_Second, I began a Criminal Minds forum on the site. The link is also on my page. Please go post there, if you can. You're awesome. _

_Third, major shout out to Kavi_Leighanna for the help with this headache of a chapter. I finally worked through it! _

_I'd really appreciate feedback. _


	21. Chapter 21

**Stroke of Midnight**

It was several days before he was able to visit the hospital again. The twenty ninth of December was bitterly cold, but no snow fell that day. Even though she was indoors, Emily Prentiss could sense the cold as if she was outside. She could see the frost that was pressing against her window that morning.

David Rossi had been released the day after Christmas with a cautionary tale of what could happen if he refused to take it easy. She only knew of it because he'd visited her before he left (JJ insisted on driving him home) and told her so. He'd only left after she'd insisted several times that she didn't need anything, that she was alright, and that he didn't need to apologize. From what she knew, Reid was still there and would be until the New Year.

Though Hotch had not been able to make a trip to the hospital since Christmas Day, Emily Prentiss was not without visitors. Morgan was constantly visiting the hospital, jumping rooms from her to Reid.

In the past few days he'd brought several more books for her and – though she hadn't known it at the time – paid for the TV in her room to be turned on for the remainder of her stay. She'd only paid for it through Christmas Day and when she attempted to chew Morgan out for it, he'd only rolled his eyes and left the room. Truly, she couldn't complain.

JJ, too, had visited several times – sometimes bringing along Henry – but she always offered just what Prentiss needed. Usually it was just silent companionship, the presence of another person, but the liaison seemed to be able to sense when she needed conversation as well. It was one of the things that made her essential as a friend. Prentiss made a note to buy the woman a bottle of wine some day soon.

Garcia usually came at the same time that Morgan did, and Prentiss didn't need a profiler's eye to tell her that something was going on there: that, from the first day she'd known the two of them, something had to be going on there. Garcia tended to always bring flowers, cards, or some other extravagant thing that never failed to be as eccentric as she was. The analyst was always dotting, always asking if she needed anything more.

She took a deep breath on her own for one of the first times in what felt like forever. Earlier that morning, the doctor had come and removed the chest tube that had been ensuring she was breathing alright. He'd warned her several times that it would be an experiment – if something went wrong, they'd have to go back a step. But he also had said that she was doing exceptionally well: better than they'd thought she'd do so early on.

Hell, she'd always been a fighter.

So when Hotch had called her hospital phone earlier that morning – something _else_ that Morgan had insisted on paying for and not hearing a word about it in response- and told her that he'd be visiting that day, she couldn't help but smile in response. He'd chosen the perfect day to return to the hospital. The doctor wanted her to get out of the bed and into a wheelchair so that she wasn't in the same position for such a long time.

She lifted her eyes to the doorway, wishing that she was able to wear something besides the hospital gown she was currently in – but the cast on her leg and the fact that she couldn't lift her arm above her head severely hindered any possibility of that happening.

She could no longer see it as surprising that she wanted him there. It had ceased to be a new development around the time when she'd felt that stifling fear after the accident when he wasn't in her line of view anymore. It had ceased to be _surprising_ when he'd shown up on Christmas.

Emily ran a hand through her dark hair, trying to ignore the painful twinge in her previously dislocated shoulder when she moved it. She was trying to ignore a lot of those things today: the pain in her ribs that was caused when she sat up against headboard, the twinge in her shoulder when she moved and the muscle ache when she turned her head were only a few that she was consciously trying to ignore. She refused to be invalid when he showed up.

She'd had enough of that in the past few days.

--

"Are you sure?" The dark haired profiler looked towards the door and then back to the wheelchair sitting next to her bed.

"Aaron, I've been here since Christmas Eve. And by here, I mean this bed." Emily Prentiss raised her eyebrows. "Please."

"And the doctor okayed you moving?" Hotch questioned.

"Yes. I don't think this quite qualifies as moving. I'll be sitting in that wheelchair the entire time."

"You promise that." He questioned again, his dark eyes flickering to the wheelchair. He could see it already: her insisting, somehow, that she could get up and walk from the chair, though the cast on her leg prevented it.

"I'll be golden." She promised, the ghost of a smile twitching her lips. "No funny business." Prentiss teased, watching as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright." He finally consented, noticing the ghost of a smile turning to a full one. "But at the first sign of trouble, we're turning back."

_Author's Note: _

_Yes, I do promise that you'll get to see this mini adventure of them, the wheelchair, and the halls of the hospital, but it deserved its own separate chapter. I'm so sorry that updates have been sparse: I promise that they'll get quicker, for this story and The Art of Butterflies if you're following that one as well. _

_Also, if you've been following my profile page, there are a few things that I want to say. _

_I'm currently doing a challenge for the year of 2010. During this year, I'll be doing one hundred one-shots based on the prompts that the community at the criminal minds livejournal have given me. Currently, there are only two up: Headache and Drowning. _

_The second thing is that I have a blog. The link is on my page: I'd be ecstatic if you were to follow it. Basically, it's all about writing – insights on it, insanity from it, and other such things. _

_Other than that, all I can say is … please review. I need to know that there are people still reading it after all this time that I haven't updated in. _


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